#greg's on his sick leave right now that's why he's not at work

[iwritefandomimagines]

KISS AND TELL — ROBERT CHASE

masterlist

pairing: robert chase x reader

description: after endless mutual pining, you and chase finally hooked up over the weekend. you agreed to keep it a secret while you figured things out, but it doesn’t last long with the team around.

warnings: swearing, possibly a tiny bit ooc while i’m trying to figure out how i write the house characters, nothing else really. just the team teasing you both and a lil kissing in a closet

author’s note: am a sucker for house atm so pleaaase keep house related requests coming 🫶

“Mm,” you hummed against Chase’s lips as you pushed his chest gently away across the front seats of his car, “Taking things slow, huh?”

He smiled guiltily, pulling the keys from the ignition as he pulled away from you and pocketed them, “A little kiss is hardly rushing things after the weekend we’ve had, don’t you think?”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes.

You’d been (badly) concealing feelings for Chase for almost as long as you had been working in close proximity to him.

Everyone else was more than aware of it, but it had taken a drunken dinner to finally ease confessions from you both.

It was supposed to be a friendly dinner to round off a really stressful week.

But a few bottles of wine had stripped away your inhibitions and you’d made it more than clear that hiding your attraction to him had been an almost impossible task.

He’d confirmed his reciprocation with a quick, dazed kiss, and before you knew it you were staying at his house and wouldn’t be leaving until almost 48 hours later when you made a quick stop at home for a change of clothes before work.

Okay — taking things slow had been your idea, but even you knew it wasn’t going to work. Not when you’d felt the way you felt for so long, and especially not after all that had gone down that weekend.

Truth be told you were dizzy with how he made you feel, and as much as you wanted to keep scolding him for the PDA (well, hidden away in his car), the feeling of his lips on yours was one you wouldn’t get sick of.

“I guess you’re right,” you bit your lip, beginning to gather your things to head into the hospital for another long week, “But we have to keep this from them all, at least for now. I’m in no mood for House’s ‘I told you so’s today.”

“Gotcha.”

And so you entered separately, pretending to have arrived conveniently at the same time but not together.

Unbeknownst to you, Foreman had seen you get out of the car — and though he didn’t see you kiss, his suspicions got the better of him anyway.

So when Chase entered House’s office as was customary of a morning of late, Foreman followed close behind with a smug smirk on his face.

“You and Y/N, huh? Finally,” he teased, arms folded over his chest as he watched the panic flush Chase’s features, “I saw her get out of your car with you.”

“I—We— I didn’t think anyone saw us,” he replied, flustered, and House’s head snapped up from the crossword he was busying himself with to join in with the teasing, “You finally made a move, then?”

Chase’s head fell back in dismay.

Not only had he promised you not to tell them, but he was going to have to endure their teasing all fucking day about it.

What he should’ve done was say your car had broken down and he’d offered you a lift. Shit. Why didn’t he just say that?

Now he watched you approach the door to the office with a bright smile on your face and had to deal with knowing that it would soon be wiped away by your stupid friends because of his stupid mistake.

“Good morning, Y/N,” House smiled, and your eyes narrowed at the unusually cheery tone gracing his words, but you matched it anyway, “Morning Greg!”

“Wow, someone woke up on the right side of Chase’s bed this morning,” Foreman snickered, and immediately your eyes snapped to a panic stricken Chase as his eyes flickered between you and Foreman repeatedly.

You drew in a sharp breath, contemplating how best to express your irritation without completely losing your cool.

You weren’t embarrassed by everyone finding out, but you really didn’t want their teasing comments and constant watchful gazes to ruin the early stages of a relationship you’d been pining for for what felt like forever.

“What did you tell them?”

Posing the question to Chase that way meant you weren’t confirming anything, and he seemed to understand your angle as he gulped and scratched his head.

“Nothing— they assumed because Foreman saw you get out of my car that there must be something going on,” he rambled, and you rolled your eyes.

“And, if I recall correctly, your reply was that you didn’t think anyone saw you,” House quipped, “Which is hardly a denial, lovebirds.”

You scoffed, “Can friends not give each other a ride to work without it meaning they’re fucking?”

You saw Chase’s face flush crimson at your choice language, knowing it was far more than that.

“Hold on, nobody said you were just fucking,” House corrected you matter-of-factly, “You two are always staring at each other all gooey-eyed and it’s frankly revolting. But at least you’ve acted on it, finally.”

“You’re not gonna let this go until we admit it, are you?” you sighed, defeated.

Neither House nor Foreman said a word in response to that, instead choosing to silently smirk at you both.

“Fine,” you gave in, sauntering to Chase’s side, “We are seeing how things go. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“I’d argue that it is,” House’s lips were pressed together in a thin line as he paused for a moment, “But at least I’ve made a lot of money out of this.”

You rolled your eyes at him, glancing over at Foreman who was pulling money from his wallet from their apparent bet about how soon you and Chase would cave and admit your feelings.

“You guys are insufferable, you know that?” you huffed, half-joking, “If anything you make me want us to be more in your face about it.”

“Oh please, don’t pretend you want to shove excess PDA in our faces to annoy us,” Cameron laughed, hand on her hip as she smiled at you. She was genuinely happy for you, if not frustrated you hadn’t told her, “We all see the way you look at each other. You’ve wanted to eat each other’s faces since you transferred here, Y/N.”

You scoffed, “God, was it that obvious?”

You looked over at Chase now, and watched him ogle at you with his puppy-dog eyes.

Maybe they were right, maybe it had always been this obvious.

“I’m going to go get us some coffees, alright?” you glanced around the room with piercing eyes, “And when I get back, you are all going to go back to pretending none of what has happened this morning happened.”

“I’ll come with you!” Chase flew back to your side as you left the room, and you heard the team mumbling about you both as he did so.

You nudged his shoulder as you left, “I can’t believe you, Chase!”

“Hey, they didn’t give me a choice,” he pouted, but he was sure all the stress of pissing you off melted away entirely at the sound of your sweet laughter, “But—,”

He tugged you into a storage cupboard just shy of House’s office, “I’m kind of glad they know. I know I still can’t kiss you at work and stuff but, it’s relieving not hiding it from them now.”

“Now? We didn’t even have five minutes of hiding it anyway,” you giggled, enjoying the close proximity to him again, “C’mon, as much as I’d like to hide away in here with you all day, we do have work to do.”

His lips found yours quickly, and your hands tangled in his hair in a moment of weakness as you leaned into the kiss.

“Sorry, had to indulge myself once,” he sing-songed as he pulled away, opening the door and shuffling out, “Back to work, Dr. Y/L/N. Well, back to the coffee run.”

You giggled as you followed him out, checking that nobody was around to see you slip out of a closet together for god’s sake.

Unluckily for you, Wilson rounded the corner towards House’s office just in time to catch you staring doe-eyed at each other as you began to head down to get the team their coffees.

A smirk spread across his face, soon replaced with a scowl as he leaned into House’s office, “You’ll never guess who I just saw together.”

House shrugged, “Sadly, Sherlock Holmes, I can. And I’ll take the 50 bucks you owe me now.”

———

i hope this was okay !!! let me know if you enjoyed please because feedback motivates me massively!

if you have any requests please go ahead, and in the meantime here is my masterlist!

[kining-the-evil]

Heyy I was wondering if you would write up some good ole' Greg house angst? His gf didn't make it through her surgery kinda stuff. Make it as heart breaking as possible >:)

Lova ya work ! :D

Whatever You Think Is Best

//Summary// Greg makes a call, but was it the right one?

//Warnings// Reader is dying, being extremely sick, hospitals, brain surgery, death, feelings of guilt

//an// thank you so much anon! I’m glad you like my writing!

House md Taglist: @tuttifuckinfruttifriday

House md Masterlist All masterlists

The first time he met you, Greg decided immediately that you were just like every other person in the world. Completely miserable, but pretending to be kind to everybody. When you started showing up more and more, he considered it a fluke that would fix itself. He’d say something insensitive, and your storm out with plans to never see him again. But you didn’t. You kept coming back, making him actually talk instead of just insulting each other and forcing him to be more, human. At one point, he almost thought fate existed. There was no way someone like you could just accidentally themselves onto his lap. But you were there, holding him up in the best way you knew how during hard points in his life. He didn’t think he’d have to try and repay the favor.

“Good morning,” You greeted as Greg walked into the kitchen. You set the dishes you’d been cleaning down to walk over and greet him, but he frozen when you kissed his cheek.

“What did you just say?”

You pulled back, a slight frown on your face. “Good morning?”

He looked down at his watch before glancing back at you. “It’s 4:55. Pm.”

No, that couldn’t be right. You’d gotten up, made breakfast, started cleaning… then what? Your mind seemed to not be sure.

“You’ve also already said that to me, this morning. You did exactly what you just did…” Greg passed you to glance in the sink. “And you were washing the same plate. Let me see your hands.”

You held them out, and the moment they touched them it felt like they had been set on fire. That’s when you realized that they were bright red with blotches of white, bleeding in multiple places.

“Wha- I didn’t, I didn’t even notice.” You hissed slightly at his touch, pulling them back. Now that you could feel the pain, it was awful.

“We need to get to a doctors.”

————————

One week. 7 whole days. That was how long you’d been in the hospital, and Greg was getting impatient. When he checked you in you were frazzled and had second degree burns from the hot water running on them all day, but now he wished that all it was.

You were having episodes of memory loss and confusion, Extrems head aches, vision that went back and forth with being blurry, and your vitals were getting worse and worse. You were dying and he had no idea why.

“Nothing,” Wilson sighed, allowing Greg to snatch the test from his hands. He had forced his friend to test for any possible cancer, even if it didn’t fit your symptoms.

“It can be ‘nothing’” he snapped. “ ‘nothing’ doesn’t kill you!” Before Wilson could think of a response both of their pagers went off, once again dragging them to your room.

“Don’t touch me!” You yelled at Chase while messing with the I.V in your arm.

“What happened?” House questioned, seeing you through the glass door.

“Another episode,” Forman mumbled. He and Chase had gone in to check your IV, and something set you off. “She doesn’t know where she is house, she wants to leave.”

Greg sighed, but walked into the room. When you saw him, you seemed to relax a bit. “Greg! What- what’s happening?” Your voice cracked a bit, and he walked forward to take your hand away from where your IV was.

“Don’t mess with that, you’ve just got to trust me.” He watched as your kind tried to catch up with what he was saying.

“I don’t-“

“House!” You both looked over to where Chase was still standing. “Look at her ear.”

Greg moved your head a bit, reaching up to touch the side of it. He pulled his hand back while you frowned at him. “What is it?”

“Blood, you’re bleeding from your ear.”

————————

“New symptom, bleeding from the ear. What could it be?” Greg write it down on the board that had far to many symptoms on it, in his opinion. After a moment of silence, he turned around to look at the group. “Hello? Am I Talking to anyone?”

“She needs a craniectomy,” Forman finally said. “The brain is swelling, would explain the bleeding and if something is pushing on the brain then it could be messing with her memory.”

“Yes, let’s take off a portion of her skull on the scientific explanation of ‘could.’” He mocked, making a face at Foreman.

“He’s right,” Cameron spoke up. “Any other patient and you would Have agreed.”

Greg took a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He knew fully well they were right, that if the swelling didn’t go down then their wouldn’t be anything to diagnose.

“Fine, get the forms signed and an OR booked.”

—————

“You want to remove a part of my skull?” You asked the three doctors. Your legs were tucked under you, your right hand handcuffed to the bed, just incase you go off again.

“Just to get the swelling down, then we will put it back.” Forman explained. “All three of us will be in the OR during the surgery, but it is a dangerous surgery. You could, like with any surgery, bleed out while it’s happening. But you could also get an infection in the brain, and given how weak your immune system is right now, that could be bad.”

You glance at each of them, unsure of what to say. “What-what does Greg think?” You finally ask.

“He, agrees this is the next logical step,” Chase said.

“Then I’ll do it,” you quickly decide. “He’s the one in charge of medical decisions if I’m unable to make them, so if he thinks I should then I will.”

“Are you sure-“

“Sign here,” Chase cut Cameron off, handing over the forms. “And we will get an OR prepped.”

You took the paper, quickly signing everything and handing it back. “Could you call Greg for me?”

“Of course,” Forman gave you small smile before all three of them left.

While waiting you glanced down at the cuff keeping you in the bed. Despite how hard you tried to not fight against it, the skin was still rubbed raw. It hurt, but was just another pain to add to the rest of them.

“You agreed to the surgery.” You glanced up to see Greg walking into the room. “With little encouragement.”

“They said you thought it was the right move,” you shrugged. “I don’t know anything about this stuff and I trust you.”

“Why Are You so calm about this?”

“I told you, if you think it’s the best idea, so I’ll do it.”

“No, that’s your reason to do it.” He corrected you. “Any sane person would be terrified to have a surgery like this.”

“Greg, there are moments where I have no idea what is happening or where I am. That’s what scares me. This… just doesn’t seem as bad.” He watches you like your an animal at the zoo, like he’s trying to decipher whatever is actually happening in your head.

“Ok.”

—————

Greg stood watching the surgery, eyes jumping between where you were being cut into and where your vitals were being monitored.

“It can’t be healthy to watch this,” Wilson spoke from beside his friend.

“Just checking on my patient.”

“She’s going to be fine.”

“I know,” Greg quickly snapped. He didn’t like this, the emotional connection to a patient. It’s easier to suggest things like this when you don’t love the patient.

A sudden movement caught his eyes, making him frown. Everyone in the room was rushing around, and when he looked at your vitals he found a flat line.

“Shit.” Greg moved as quickly as he could, even excepting Wilson’s help so that he could get there faster. Just as he opened to OR door, the word ‘clear’ was being shouted followed by a small shock.

“Get him out of here.” Chase pointed over at house, and a few people walked over to led him out.

“Get off me!” He snapped, trying to push towards you. It wasn’t until he hit one’s foot with his cane that he got through, grabbing the paddles from Chase.

“Clear,” a shock.

“Clear” another shock.

“Clear.” Another

“Cl-“

“House, Stop!” Forman attempted to grab the paddles, but Greg would let go. If he let go, it lent you would die.

“No,” he mumbled. His mind was going a million miles a second. “No, I can’t stop.” He was so in his mind that he didn’t notice Wilson behind him until he was being dragged out of the room.

“Don’t,” Wilson snapped after shoving Greg onto a seat outside of the OR and saw him try to get back up.

“I’m not just letting her die!” Greg yelled, but Wilson just stood there, making sure his friend wouldn’t try and run back in. Luckily, it was only around 20 minutes before Cameron came out.

“She’s on Life Support, but is brain dead,” she explained. “Cuddy said half an hour before they pull the plug. So you can say good bye.”

“No point,” Greg spoke. “She can’t hear me. She’s already dead.”

“God damn it, just go do it,” Wilson snapped. “I’m going to, she was my friend. And you need to, or you’ll regret it.”

Although telling anyone who would listen that it didn’t matter, he waited outside of the room you were in. He watched as multiple people walked in to say final goodbyes, waiting until he was the only person left. He had five minutes.

Greg knew what it looked like when a person was hooked up to something like this, but seeing you like that felt wrong. A tube down your throat, multiple needles in your body, all meant to keep you alive for a little longer. He wanted to walk out, but with Wilson’s words echoing in his head he didn’t. Instead, he walked closer to the bed.

Slowly, he reached a hand out to touch your face lightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should have figured it out, you shouldn’t be here. It’s my fault.” He felt tears burning his eyes, and as bad as he wanted to hold them back, he just couldn’t. “I’m so sorry.”

He just stood there, letting tears fall while rubbing your face. It was cold, to cold. Only a week ago you’d been your normal, smiling self, and now you were here. All because he couldn’t solve the puzzle. A hand came to rest on his shoulder that he immediately recognized as Cuddy.

“It’s time. You may want to step out.”

He made no move to leave, and When Cuddy realized he wouldn’t she just nodded. He wouldn’t look at anything else but your face as the sound of the machines being turned off or the sound of you flatlining. Your chest stoped moving.

“Time of death, 11:45 pm.” Cuddy’s voice spoke. With a nod Greg leaned down, planting a kiss on your forehead and whispering a final apology.

—————

Fungal infection. The autopsy showed you had a simple fungal infection in the spinal cord, which had caused everything. The swelling in the brain was caused by the meds they had given you. A round of anti-fungal would have saved you. If they had figured it out, you would have been fine.

[aladaylessecondblog]

Red Mountain Waffle House, pt. 9

"My lord, a message from Azura."

Archcanon Saryoni looked...strange. Either he was trying not to be sick or he was trying not to laugh.

"Well? What is this message?" Vivec slipped into the godliest voice possible and looked down at his devoted priest.

"Ah...it includes an expletive, so I wrote it down. I should prefer not to speak such profane words in...Your presence, Lord Vivec."

Vivec gestured, took the offered paper, and looked with what he hoped was detached serenity. "You may go. I am not in the least angered at you, for if the messenger is blighted for giving bad news, however can it be turned to our advantage?"

Saryoni left, and Vivec finally unrolled the message, which was both very short and very simple.

To the apostate murderer Vivec

Fuck. You.

He burned it, and watched the ashes drift off. The daedric princes didn't usually bother with things like this. He still got the odd stalkerish message from Molag Bal, but this sort of thing?

What in oblivion did it mean?

He opened Morrowtwitter, intending to do his usual morning scrolling, and nearly broke his phone.

---------------------------------------------------

*The Night Before*

---------------------------------------------------

"This was a terrible idea." Sadara grumbled, and pushed closer to Jiub to stay under the umbrella. "You have all this weed and you can't get a bigger umbrella?"

"Why don't YOU get a bigger umbrella, huh? Cozy up to His Cultiness and see if you can't get us a little more gold, huh? Feel like we could use him as a friend considering Almalexia's body wasn't where I left it. First time a body I tossed just up and vanished."

"Because if I wanted to go into prostitution I'd move to Suran where that shit's legal." And she REALLY didn't want to think about Almalexia right now.

"It's not like you can catch anything off him."

"No diseases, anyway, but probably a hell of a lot of clinging."

You need to relax, Nerevar's voice wafted through her mind, Have a little fun, you know. You can't do much well if you keep being stressed about petty things.

Nearly dying because of your boyfriend isn't petty. The man has no hobbies except spreading plagues and trying to recruit people to worship him.

If you spent even ONE night with him--

I'm not fucking him, Nerevar! How about this, I'll fuck SOMEBODY at the party. Would that make you happy? But you've got to agree to be quiet while I'm here. If people think I'm talking to a voice in my head I'm not getting laid this night...or any other night.

Thankfully, Nerevar agreed.

She wanted a romp anyway. A one night stand. Something that would leave her with a headache, an ache between the legs, and a ripped pair of panties stuffed into her pocket to show for the whole thing. A story to tell for a while about the dangers of being too drunk. There was something exciting about the whole idea--

"What'd ya bring?"

A guy out in front of Greg's house, standing under the porch awning, flicked a cigarette and gestured vaguely.

"Weed," Jiub said, waggling the bag in his other hand, "Let us in."

Inside they found Greg, already well-watered and swaying only slightly. "Hey, hey, you made it! Jiub, great to see you...and uh...Sad...Sada..."

"Sadara."

"Yeah, that. There's a bunch of food in the kitchen, we've got some ashlanders in here that brought a whole roasted kagouti, so if you like kagouti steak or a burger or something you might want to get on that pronto. Ah, we got karaoke, but Jolene's here so you'll have to wrestle him off it if you want a shot."

"Jolene?"

"Big motherfucker. We don't know his name but he shows up now'n then, brings an armful of booze...and only ever sings that 'Jolene' song, so we started calling him that. Kind of a weepy drunk."

Sadara went on ahead, got a kagouti steak, some sujamma, and some ash yam fries which all vanished in a hurry. She grabbed a bottle of flin from a 6 pack somebody opened, poured it into a cup and set off, looking...

...alright, who might I regret the least when I wake up tomorrow morning?

What looked like a gulakhan made a pass at her, but the poor thing was so wobbly she couldn't do anything but decline. She gave him a smile and guided him over to an empty couch. "Have some water, you don't look so good."

He stammered out a thank you and then she turned away.

There's too many people here, Nerevar said in her head, Reminds me of old council soirees.

Yeah, this is how we party now.

She walked looking for anyone she knew, and chatted with one or two of the Waffle House regulars.

"Stupid landlord raised our rent again. We're already renting four to the apartment and we're talking to a fifth guy who's an ash ghoul."

"Thought people didn't want them in around here. Not that I mind, they've always been polite to me."

The Dunmer shrugged. "He can pay a share of rent and only eats corprusmeat. You'd think they'd be messy as all oblivion but they're actually pretty tidy. Like to keep things 'in order.' He actually came in and did our dishes without being asked."

"That checks out," she laughed. "Careful of the ordinators though, no matter how polite they are, they don't care for the ash folk."

"Oh yeah, we already got that down. Cult or not we agree all ordinators are bastards."

There was a laugh, and then the guy saw some friend or the other and headed off to speak to him.

Sadara moved through the crowd, only half-paying attention to the sea of faces around her. Her cup was half-empty and she was strongly considering going to find Jiub and ask what he did with the weed when some imperial woman appeared at her elbow.

"Hey, can you help me out?"

"With what?"

"I want to do a song and Jolene's five times in and showing no signs of stopping."

She'd ask why her, but figured it was because she didn't look too drunk...or maybe that she looked like an easy mark, who knew. She agreed and followed the woman into an upstairs room where she was then unfortunate to get within earshot of this Jolene.

"--flaming locks of auburn hair, with ivory skin and eyes of emerald green--"

Half the room was ignoring him, and half were complaining, but Jolene didn't seem to notice any of it, so consumed with the song as he was. Sadara moved closer, and got a better look at him.

He looked like someone's long-haired dad with delusions of being a rally strider racer, right down to the bandana covering his forehead and tied off in the back. Black leather jacket, jeans, shades, the whole nine yards, as the saying went. The cherry on top, though, was the braided goatee.

Why me? she thought.

Nerevar stirred in the back of her mind, but didn't say a word.

"--and I cannot compete with you...Jolene."

The man was really putting his all into it; Sadara felt bad for walking up to him. He was a little drunk, she guessed, because he didn't notice her until she spoke to him.

"Come on, time to sit down. Let somebody else have a turn."

"Why?" He sounded half-about to cry. "What's the point?"

One of THOSE drunks, she thought ruefully. Well, there wasn't much going on...she wasn't having a lot of luck finding a guy for the night. Maybe if this guy were less focused on whoever he lost he'd do.

"Come on." She grabbed his arm and tugged gently. "You don't look so good, you need to sit down."

Sniffling. Half a sob. Then he looked up at her, and his weepy expression changed in an instant.

"Sure. Sure, why not.."

Jolene let her lead him off to a couch in a back hallway that only seemed to be frequently by people heading to the bathroom at the back. She fetched a bottle of flin and came back to him with two cups, then poured him out a bit. It was only being this close now that she noticed his ring--black and with a boxy setting and a little spike at the top.

"A drink'll serve you better than weeping over it. Or at least it'll put you out of your misery for a few hours."

"Nothing ever helps. I don't get hungover and I don't stop thinking about--about--" Jolene sputtered slightly.

"Well, there's got to be something that'll work," she patted his shoulder. "Get your mind off it. It's not the same thing, but I'm broke as hell and I have a bunch of ways to keep my mind off how much it sucks."

"Such as?"

"Finding literally anything to do that's free. I learned how to make tea from trama root, that's everywhere. The Waffle House I work at's got a nice jukebox...the manager's been teaching me to patch things up better than I was doing. That...none of that will probably help you, though, you look like you've got enough money you don't...don't, uh..." Sadara waved a hand absently. "Cliffracer hunting is fun if you need to burn off some steam. It'll make you some money but you'll probably get a bunch of new scars out of it."

She rolled up one sleeve and gestured to some of the healed-over scars.

"It looks--terrible," Jolene said, his voice halting. "And you did this for drinking money?"

"Oh no, I did it for a living before I got the job at the Waffle House," Sadara shrugged. "When you don't have much you have to take what you can get...and cliffracer plumes sell for well enough to be worth the trip. They're edible, too, so it's easy food...less gold to spend on food and more to spend on healing potions and armor repair. I kept meaning to buy a lute, but..."

"What stopped you?"

"These." she gestured. "Jiub got me the job, and it's not great...pipes get clogged, landlord keeps raising the rent, and we eat sleep for dinner two nights a week, but it's not bad."

"How is that not BAD?" he burst out. "You could do MUCH better. I'm sure you have more opportunities."

"Without qualifications, and not wanting to kowtow to crazy Telvanni...I'm not sure I'd suit for the Redoran, and as for Hlaalu...well I guess I am one, but..."

She shrugged. The flin was making her chatty, she knew she was saying too much, but she couldn't help herself. Jolene was such an easy listener and seemed to be hanging onto her every word.

"But what?"

"But I prefer not to tell people, because then they ask where I'm from, and then I tell them, and I have to hear, 'oh, I know you. Your cousin is the corpsefucker, right?" Sadara shrugged. "So I just tell everyone I don't belong to a Great House. It's easier. People expect less from you anyway. If I said I was house Hlaalu they'd probably think I was an idiot for not...you know..."

"Kissing Imperial ass, it's what they're known for," Jolene said. He finished the rest of his flin in one gulp, then took the bottle and took a long guzzle from it. He handed it back to her, and grumbled slightly. "That's swill, do they not have anything better?"

"It's a party, not a soiree," Sadara shrugged. "It'll get you drunk. Who cares about the quality?"

"I do. I have this thing called standards--"

"You're in the Red Mountain neighborhood, there's no such thing. There's probably a guy in every apartment building making prison wine out of whatever he can get his hands on. And why show up if you're going to insult what they've got on offer?"

"Like I have anything else to do." Jolene sat back, and looked up at the ceiling. "All this time, all these people..."

He started mumbling under his breath and she only caught bits of what he said.

"...have to show for...the point?...know what I'm doing..."

He straightened up once Sadara had finished her own cup and was pouring out another.

Nerevar? she thought.

Yes? The voice in her mind was unusually muted.

Will this guy do?

YES. The enthusiasm was clear, and in an odd way it was contagious.

"You don't seem like you're doing good," Sadara said, "So I was wondering...I came here to get a little...well..."

"Get what?" Jolene, for all his woe over his lost love, whoever it was, seemed completely clueless.

"You know. You want me to scream it in front of everyone?" she gave a slight giggle and leaned in as close as she could manage, considering he was taller than her. "Unless you aren't interested."

"Interested in wh--"

Jolene finally seemed to get it, and tensed straight up.

"You don't...know me," he said slowly, and after a moment, leaned down and said in a quieter voice, "Feeling reckless, are we?"

"Maybe." Sadara gave a grin, and met his eyes directly. "I don't really care who you are, I don't care what you've got - I can't catch it anyway."

They were a hair's breadth away from kissing when the shout came that had ruined many a party in the Red Mountain region neighborhood and would likely ruin many more.

"BONEHEADS!"

Chaos erupted in the hallway, and shrieks aplenty were heard in the rooms nearby. Four people stumbled out of the bathroom, one of then a Dunmer trying to zip up his shorts and the three others screeching about leaving half the moon sugar on the bathroom floor.

"Fucking hells--" Sadara swore, and started to get up. "Figures I'm about to get laid and the ordinators show up. I guess I'll see you at the next o--"

But Jolene was up beside her in a flash and said, "How do you feel about Suran?"

"Suran? What's that got to--"

"I can get us there, there's a Telvanni that runs a portal from near here to there for his drug money. You want to go?"

For only a moment did she think.

"Sure. How're you gonna get us out? And I thought you couldn't teleport from inside the Ghostfence?"

Jolene grinned madly. "The Ghostfence can't stop me."

-------------------------------------------------

Between an invisibility spell and the ordinators getting busy arresting a few people who decided that attempting to run off with the ordinator's guar mounts was an excellent life decision, Sadara and Jolene slipped out without being seen--though the rain didn't stop, even for a moment. The Telvanni he mentioned was only a street over, and it wouldn't take long, she was told.

She insisted on not going too far until she got word back from Jiub--who'd been "taking a walk" with a few other guys and so had early warning of the ordinators pulling up.

You good? Jiub texted back as they were entering said Telvanni's house.

Better than good, she wrote back, as Jolene was negotiating. Going to Suran with some big hunk of a man.

I don't want to hear any details. Just be careful, alright?

Alright. I'll be fine.

"Sadara, let's go. Portal's ready."

She put away her phone, and stepped into a glowing circle on the floor. That looked enough like what she remembered from some of the Mages Guilds back in Cyrodiil.

A single blink.

She opened her eyes.

And right before the two of them was a huge sign with big gaudy flashing neon that said, "WELCOME TO FABULOUS SURAN."

"Well," she said suddenly, "What're we gonna do here? You can't go at me on the street, you know."

"There's a lot more to do here than back there behind the Ghostfence," Jolene said, waving one hand briefly. "Musical theater, magic acts, acrobatics...gambling. There's tours, if you wanted--have you ever seen any stage shows?"

"Well--online." Sadara looked around. The crowds around weren't paying a bit of attention to them. People were in House robes, armor, wearing feathered costumes...and the city, however glittery, seemed so--alive. Not like the Imperial capital, but...somehow MORE. "Just being around here's a treat, though, you don't have to--it's not necessary."

She was going to bang him anyway; she didn't want him to feel like he had to wine and dine her.

"It is ENTIRELY necessary," Jolene added in a grandiose tone. "Now tell me, my lady, where shall we go first?"

[predoom]

ohoneohone

Saturday, September 24th, 2005 2:14 pm but i am too weak to be your cure night started out strong. got kinda wack. want to go on a date to the corpse bride? (157 Comments |Comment on this) Tuesday, September 20th, 2005 12:56 pm ruckus juice dear demar,

i am sorry.

sugar in chicago. Monday, September 19th, 2005 12:19 pm mike murphy all up in demar hamiltons ass went to the alk3/my chemical bromance with demar and nick on the dick. pretty hilarious. the bands let the good times roll. went by pizza metro and made awesome jokes. and ate like 60 bucks worth of super flat pizza. startling revelations about demars life. i like hanging with old friends. down the street from the girl to trevia. kinda chill. matt skiba talked to me about clandestine. pretty amazing. we are wearing all black coming up hats. greg let me dj for a minute and i played some faint and refused. P-Unit. people at my house when i went home. freaked me out. sleeeepover prince. search the net and you can find some amazing pictures. Saturday, September 17th, 2005 4:52 pm reNICKulous woah. got my g.i. joe aircraft carrier in the mail yesterday. its seven feet long. thats like me and patrick stacked on top of eachother. ate a box of life cereal yesterday. kinda gross. somehow with all the chaos of everything i got normal again. its weird to me that 50cents mom is a lesbian. i dunno why. it totally fits and totally doesn't. just like everything else. i saw the motorola commercial we were asked to be in with madonna. yeah thats right- "sell out boy" turned one down cause it wasn't the right situation. haha. we would have had to cancel shows and all- just wasn't right. i just wanted to meet the material girl. we don't do everything were asked to. waited out going over to watch demar pass out and get kissed. instead went to the city. carnival life. we bought ice cream shoes online from hongkong. get jealous. counted freckles. yawn. patrick came over today. we worked on some secret stuff. him and his gee eff are way too lame and cute. i cant wait to see corpse bride. awesomeness. just waiting for tonight to happen.

oops comments wahahaha. Thursday, September 15th, 2005 11:27 pm this week he's mopping floors, next week he's on fries early bird gets the worm. took a headache for my tylenol. went to the cover shoot for spin magazine. it was ridiculous as always. i put myself into the worst clothes i could find cause thats just funny to me on the inside. nickplan and drunkmar showed up cause they keep it the realest. got weird emails all day. pretty standard. someday we'll be nostalgic for right now. but until then you can put it in a pinebox. its funny the mistakes you realize you are making as you go about things. cause those are the worst. it only makes sense when you are that close. otherwise its blurry and filled with lies. and you can say whatever you want but in the dark i know what you look like and think- and no one else does. nothing that needs to be spoken of. im the kind of kid that will go to the goddamned end. file me under: fucking speechless. right to her house. wow, it's been a month. we don't talk. it goes without saying. freckles. kinda dreamy. and i ain't too hard on the eyes. only those arms make it okay. i just don't care anymore. this is the three year boy. this is the lover boy. this is the keeper. the is the one that got away. i drop records, not names. so i'm not letting you in. buzznet updated. please leave my friends or whatever alone, because i have- and im sick of hearing about it. raise your hand if you're excited for fall tour. time to become the person i was supposed to be.

Current Music: you make me wanna lala 12:59 am "growing uuuuuuuuup, i guess i am my own better half" what were they thinking? i'm tired. ate for the first time in what feels like forever today. you know gotta keep that charm. what does that even mean? actually have to get up at 9am for a photo shoot tommorrow. the wackest. i guess it could be worse. i could have to sell stuff or work in a factory instead of just getting laughed at by some dumb photographer cause we don't know how to pose right. flashflashflash. goddamn the new panic at the disco record makes me feel okay in any situation. only two people in the entire world know how it goes. its kind of funny that i get to be one of them. but its strange the way only one person makes you feel electric. like you were meant to be three inches away from them always. but then its gone. or they are. went to green street hooligans. ate your popcorn and drank your soda. cause im kinda a baby. movie dates are funny cause you either watch the movie or you talk the whole time. both are kind of a let down. fall is definitely hug season. bring it on. who knows how it turns out. don't believe the hype. i didn't overdose. this really is me typing.

Tuesday, September 13th, 2005 10:39 pm difficult takes a day, impossible takes a week. oh no oh no. i don't get it but then i don't think i am supposed to. today woke up and bought my friend shoes cause she's rad and i like buying stuff for my friends. i am sick, but it's gonna be okay. i love going to bars with my friends and ordering 5 dollar sprites. yeah i'm that guy. right now i wish this was a lyric i wrote: "i dunno why other rappers try and dis you. cause even my superficial raps are super official". i'm supposed to be waiting by the phone but i'm always at front desk in the hotel lobby. i told my friend that i want to get super big bling jesus necklace- they said it doesn't make sense because im not super into jesus- but i told them that was the whole point. i sing the blues just for the covers of magazines. oh yeah. the rest of my day. ive been going out into the real world alot lately. the sun hurts my eyes but you're making me grin. went to joes house in boy's town- its like one inch big and filled with 80 million things. ebay says that my g.i. joe aircraft carrier is in the mail. but who knows cause i tell people shit is in the mail all the time. its like waking up from a dream and not being sure. for sure. our new video is pretty sweet. hung with the bestest. it feels nice outside. time to go play. i think i am going to be vegetarian again, then probably vegan. cause it just feels right. like you. all i do is watch thundercats and crush hard. what a life.

Current Music: christina milian 2:22 am go right on reds, get left at altars i want to write a "hey momma" song for the emo world. it smells like coffee and rain everywhere today for me.

i have lost all respect for you. before you make accusations, check the scoreboard sweetheart.

just when you are about to give up sometimes a light comes on. like its the only one out there. and when you are unhappy they are a shoulder. and they make you laugh when you get thrown out the window like trash from a car. old friends bend. you got me smiling like it was a dream. and i am slowly letting everything else go.

let go let go.

ive got a crush.

[freedfutura]

Hello it's me again! I might abuse this button from now on because of my fanfic ideas for Robin😭 (I'm so SORRY in advance) So anyways, since my knee is hurting A LOT (It got dislocated) uhm can you do a fanfic where Robin notices us not being in school and then he receives a call from the hospital saying that you got your knee dislocated and that his number is on our "to call in case of emergency" since our parents are busy working overseas and then he's taking care of us in the hospital? Please take your time on writing and i really loved your works. Thank you very much.^^

Hey! I’m finally getting around to doing requests again, and I wanted to apologize for getting this out so late! I sincerely hope your knee is alright Omg!

Right around the time that this came into my inbox, I literally sprained my ankle 💀. I’ve had a lot of problems with it for the past 6 years- breaking it and fracturing and spraining it on numerous occasions. Always the same one. I totally feel your pain, and wish you a successful recovery.

Laughters the Best Medicine

[Robin Arellano]

School seemed to drag on more than usual due to your absence.

Not only was it very alarming that you were absent without notice, it was incredibly inconvenient. Robin had scouted every “spot” you two had at the school, hoping that, for whatever reason, you’d be there waiting to jump out and surprise him.

He checked the corner of the library, in the nonfiction section that is hidden away and goes pretty much untouched or roamed through. He checked behind the guest side bleachers. He checked the janitors closet. He checked the other janitors closet. Hell, he even used your lock combo to check inside your locker. Even though, logically, you obviously could not fit inside of it.

Alas, all led to dead ends, leaving him feeling dejected and bored.

During 5th period math, his gloominess was very noticeable as he kept his head flopped on the desk, doodling random drawings in his notebook, even after lecture was finished.

“No luck?” Finn had asked, knowing all too well by the expression on Robin’s face that he had not been successful in his search for you.

Robin gave him a nonchalant look, not wanting to admit his genuine concern of your whereabouts, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” He raised a brow. “So you just coincidentally looked through every spot you and y/n sneak off to make out at?”

He immediately sat up in his chair, looking flustered, “we don’t go there just to make out! S-Sometimes we…study.”

“Yeah right,” Finn snorted, “if that were true you wouldn’t be nearly failing every class. Just admit that you’re worried.”

Robin scrunched his face at him, “ha.ha.ha. Whatever, maybe I’m a little worried. Only because why wouldn’t she say anything? She always calls and lets me know. That’s weird right?”

Finn shrugged, “I don’t know, man. Maybe she forgot.”

“She wouldn’t.”

“Maybe she’s really sick and slept in,” he suggested.

“Yeah, maybe,” Robin agreed, somewhat disbelievingly.

By the time school let out, he practically sprinted to your house, which was very out of character because he often felt “too cool” to run anywhere. He felt like it made him looked stupid or like a pushover. Why? Who’s to say.

He let himself into your house, knowing your parents would be gone, and went straight to your room.

In the end, he made himself look stupid for nothing because you weren’t even home. He literally ransacked your room, and you were no where to be found. That’s when panic really began to set into him.

Reluctantly, he walked himself home feeling an uncomfortable sense of dread, unintentionally imagining all the worst scenarios of what could’ve happened to you.

What if you were kidnapped? What if you were hurt? What if you ran away without telling him? What if you secretly fell in love with someone else and moved away, changed your name, dyed your hair and started a life with them and got a hamster named Greg.

Hell no! That’s supposed to be him! He’s supposed to have a hamster with you named Greg!

The whole thing was making him unnecessarily frustrated and anxious, fogging his brain in a way that made him extra distracted upon entering his house.

It wasn’t until he heated his uncle snap at him that he really came back to reality.

“Robin? ROBIN!”

He shook away his thoughts, quickly redirecting his attention to the man stood before him on the phone.

“Sorry, what?” He hums, embarrassment lighting up his cheeks.

Manuel rolls his eyes, chuckling softly, “you’re too damn distracted, boy. That’s why you’re failing your math class, huh? Ven, hay alguien en el teléfono para usted.”

(Translate: Come, there’s someone on the phone for you.)

Quickly, Robin rushes over and takes the phone from him and puts his ear to the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Is this Mr. Robin Arellano?”

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

“My name is Laurie Holman, I’m calling from the North Denver county hospital to inform you that (y/n) (l/n) is here in the emergency room. You’re on her emergency call list, and we tried to reach you earlier today, but you were unavailable,” the woman explains in a monotonous voice.

“E-Emergency room?” He stammers out, again feeling overwhelmed with dread. “Is she alright?”

“She’s fine now, just experiencing some pain and discomfort- which she is receiving pain medication to keep at bay. Her knee was dislocated,” she explains calmly. “Will you be visiting?”

He blinks in disbelief, only feeling slight relief at knowing you’re ok, “uh, yeah. Yeah. Alright. I’ll be there in a few.”

After gently placing the phone back on the receiver, he turns to his uncle who is sat nearby on the dining table, pretending not to have heard a thing as he readers through a magazine.

“Uncle?” He clears his throat, effectively gaining the man’s attention, “can I borrow your truck? I swear I’ll be careful with it! It’s an emergency.”

“What type of emergency?” Manuel pushes, raising a brow.

“My-girl-dislocated-her-knee-and-needs-me-to-be-with-her type of emergency,” he replies with a somewhat smart tone.

The two bare a tense and awkward silence before his uncle heaves a sigh and fumbles a hand into his pocket, sparking a smile on Robin’s face.

“Don’t be driving like a dumbass, Mijito! Yo se como eres,” he warns, tossing him the keys with a pointed look.

(Translation: I know how you are.)

Robin grins, nodding ferociously as he tumbles towards the door, “yeah, yeah! I swear!”

After nearly crashing at least once, he finally makes it to the hospital- thankfully in one piece- and rushes through the doors to ask for you.

“Sign in, please,” the receptionist requests, handing him a clipboard and pen. “Who are you here for?”

“(Y/n) (l/n),” he hurriedly replies, rushing to sign his name and time.

The nurse takes the clipboard back, raising a brow at his horrid handwriting before looking back to him, “room 301”.

He briefly nods before rushing off down the hall.

“Wrong way!” She calls out to him, not even glancing up from her paperwork.

Without even saying so much as a thank you, he hurries off in the other direction, laser focused on finding your room. With the pace he’s going, it doesn’t take him very long, and he practically barges in without even knocking.

You flinch from his sudden presence, unintentionally pulling your leg in an uncomfortable way and immediately hissing in pain.

“Ow, ow, ow!” You grimace, hands hovering over the ache but refraining from touching and applying any further pressure.

Robin throws you an apologetic, “sorry, mi vida.”

(Translation: my dream)

You give him a forced smile and nod, “it’s alright….Um…hi.”

He walks over, taking a gander at her current predicament, “I was so worried about you, I thought you fell in love with someone else and ran off to marry them.”

You snicker, feeling your mood lighten for the first time all day, “really? You really think so lowly of me?”

“Aye! You never know. For real though, are you alright? That looks like it hurts pretty bad,” he questions seriously, moving to sit on the chair by your bed and scooting it closer to you.

You shrug, “it’s…fine.”

“Really? He gives you a disbelieving look.

“…no,” you sigh, glancing down at your swollen knee. “It hurts like fucking hell. I really feel like the universe has it out for me, Robin.”

He frowns, slowly reaching over to grab your hand and secure it with his, “how can I help?”

“You already are,” you chuckle softly, reaching over to fix his misplaced bandanna. “Your presence makes me happy.”

He grins cockily, “I know. I’m pretty great, huh?”

You roll your eyes, “whatever, forget I said anything.”

“Nah, no take backs,” he laughs, shaking his head and making his hair bounce around. “You know you can’t resist my charm.”

“If I could, I would kick your ass,” you laugh back.

“You ain’t gonna be kicking shit with that knee,” he snorts, watching as you roll your eyes yet again.

“I hate you,” you groan playfully.

“Hey, at least I got you laughing though! You know what they say?” He hums happily.

“What?” You softly question.

He kisses your hand softly, “laughters the best medicine.”

[mariacallous]

After six months of shooting, six months in postproduction, and nine months of concentrated editing, Dune was ready to be unleashed onto 1,700 screens worldwide simultaneously, a rarity then. There were four gala premieres scheduled for the film: Washington, DC; Los Angeles; Miami; and London.

The DC premiere at the Kennedy Center took place on December 4 and included Dune author Frank Herbert, Kyle MacLachlan (“Paul Atreides”), Francesca Annis (“Lady Jessica”), Dean Stockwell (“Doctor Wellington Yueh”), Raffaella De Laurentiis (producer), and, of course, Dino De Laurentiis (executive producer). The latter wrangled Herbert and David Lynch (along with his wife, Mary Fisk) invites to a White House state dinner to meet President Ronald Reagan, whom Lynch admired. Supposedly the President and First Lady Nancy Reagan told Herbert they enjoyed the film, though official records show Dune wasn't screened for the president until December 22, at Camp David.

“It is an important town for an important movie,” Dino told The Washington Post. “The Kennedy Center is the most important in the United States. That is why we have the premiere of Dune here.”

MacLachlan, smiling between book signings at the premiere, told a reporter: “I don’t feel like a God Emperor, just an actor. Actually, the process of filming was boring and tedious. The fun came in seeing it in its final form. This is the second time for me, I saw it once before in New York. Yes, I do hope there’s a sequel. I’d like to be in lots more. I’d read all the Dune books years before the movie, but once I was cast in it, I began to read them voraciously.”

“I think the movie captures the book,” Herbert opined. “Of course, it leaves out scenes, but it would have to, otherwise we’d be here 14 hours.”

However, negativity around Dune was already circulating. Lynch tried to quell the bad buzz (Variety had dubbed it a “Dune-boggle”) to the Los Angeles Times shortly after this premiere, saying: “I don’t know how the rumors got started, but they aren’t based on truth … that the picture was in trouble, it wasn’t going over well and that we had a bad preview. Well, I was at the Los Angeles preview, and the feeling I got was that we had a successful preview. The feeling I got at the premiere was an awful lot better. Dune is a film built for a big screen with big sound, and they had that at the Kennedy Center.”

Lynch later admitted in Greg Olsen's Beautiful Dark: “I said that I liked the film. I convinced myself that I did. But I was a very sick person at the time. I was dying inside.”

Herbert was also banging the drum for the movie and its planned follow-up, bragging to Philadelphia Daily News: “The principals of the cast and the director, David Lynch, have all been optioned for two more films. We have enough outtakes from this one to make a four-hour TV miniseries. We’re already plotting the screenplay of the sequel.”

A copy of the script for Dune II was even seen in Herbert’s office when he was interviewed for Prevue magazine in December 1984: “That’s David’s rough draft of Dune Messiah. Now that we speak the same ‘language,’ it’s much easier for both of us to make progress, especially with the screenplays.”

Lynch elaborated even further on his plans to shoot Dune II and Dune III back-to-back in Starburst #78:

Raffaella will be the producer again, and hopefully a lot of the same team will come back. Right now, I’m writing the script for Dune II. Dune II is totally Dune Messiah, with variations on the theme. Dune III is the one that’s going to be trouble for me. I’m not wild about Children of Dune, and I want to read it again and see what kind of ideas I get. I want to get to the point where I’m really dying to do it. Dune Messiah is a very short book, and a lot of people don’t like it, but in there are some really nifty ideas. I’m real excited about that, and I think it could make a really good film. It starts 12 years later, and this creates a whole new set of problems. It’s a kind of thing unto itself. The whole place where the characters live is now different. It’s the same location, but everything has changed. And it should have a different mood … it should be 12 strange years later.

At the Royal London Charity Premiere benefiting the National Association for Mental Health on December 13 were Lynch, MacLachlan, Annis, Sting (“Feyd-Rautha”), Patrick Stewart (“Gurney Halleck”), Siân Phillips (“Gaius Helen Mohiam”), and Raffaella partying at the Empire Theatre in Leicester Square alongside special celebrity guests like Prince Andrew (Duke of York), Andy Summers and Stewart Copeland (The Police), Andrew Ridgeley and George Michael (Wham!), Gary Kemp (Spandau Ballet), Nick Rhodes (Duran Duran), Roger Taylor (Queen), Grace Jones (Conan the Destroyer), Julie Walters (Educating Rita), Danny Huston (Wonder Woman), Billy Connolly (The Hobbit), and the American artist Jean-Michel Basquiat.

There is even a photograph of Annis and Sting smiling as they cut a large (truthfully, disgusting-looking) Dune cake with a chocolate sandworm suggestively placed between fondant representations of Arrakis’ two moons.

One last premiere was held concurrently the night of the London event at the Dadeland Triple Theater in South Miami, Florida, to benefit the Coconut Grove Playhouse, where José Ferrer (“Padishah Emperor Shaddam IV”) was artistic director. Ferrer attended the public event alongside actor Brad Dourif (“Piter De Vries”), with tickets available for $20 for the film (with preshow champagne reception) or $50 for the film and a gala party with the stars. A critics’ screening and press conference with Ferrer and Dourif were also arranged, attended by John Sayles and Maggie Renzi, who had intended to screen The Brother from Another Planet in Cuba but were denied visas, so they settled for watching Dune. The reception by the press at the conference was reportedly icy.

During a London press conference in January 1985 (once writing was on the wall regarding Dune failing), Raffaella made a bold and not inaccurate prediction (via Space Voyager #14): “No, it won’t flop. It’s too original. It doesn’t look like anything that’s been on the screen before. I think it’s going to become a big cult movie.”

What follows are recollections of the cast and crew of Dune on their premiere experiences.

IAN WOOLF (Directors Guild of America [DGA] Trainee): I went to the premiere at the Kennedy Center in Washington with my wife and a friend of ours. After the two hours and 20 minutes, you could hear a pin drop in the theater. It’s like, “What the fuck was this?” It wasn’t good.

VIRGINIA MADSEN (Actor, “Princess Irulan”): I didn’t go to that one. I went to the premiere at the Chinese, or maybe it was Westwood? They handed out this little dictionary. I saw that and I thought, “Oh no, this movie is in trouble … you need a dictionary.”

ERIC SWENSON (Visual Effects, Motion Control): I don’t remember everybody being bummed or super excited. It was like, “Hey, that’s pretty cool.” Everybody hates their own stuff, and thinks they could do it better. I’m looking at Rambaldi’s creatures and the forced perspective miniatures. Some of those sets, like the Emperor’s palace, were still left over when I got there, and to see them up on the big screen was phenomenal.

ALICIA WITT (Actor, “Alia”): I loved it! I loved it. I also missed a lot of the scenes that were missing. It was amazing to have that first experience of having watched something being filmed and then seeing it made into a real-life movie. That’s always magical, and it never stops being magical. No matter how many times I’ve done it now, you watch a scene being filmed over and over again from all the different angles and then you see it turned into a story. I also remember being confused by the feedback that I heard after the movie that people didn’t understand it, because obviously I knew the story backward and forward and it made perfect sense to me, but I can see now how it might have been confusing to people who hadn’t already read the book.

VIRGINIA MADSEN (Actor, “Princess Irulan”): It was kind of hard for me to recover from the fact that my face was 25 feet tall in the theater. That was the coolest thing I could have ever dreamt of as a little girl. There it was. I might not have been Barbara Stanwyck, but there I was. To me, everything about the movie was perfect because I was so proud to be a part of something that big when I was such a sci-fi/fantasy/horror fan. It was very exciting and very beautiful. I wanted to see it again immediately. [Laughs.]

PENELOPE SHAW SYLVESTER (Assistant Editor): They were all very complimentary at the Royal premiere in London. We all went out and partied afterward. I remember going into the ladies’ room, and Sting’s wife’s dress had come apart and she was in a panic. I said, “Don’t worry!” Being a Girl Scout, I had my safety pins; we pinned her up and back she went.

SEAN YOUNG (Actor, “Chani”): I was never at a screening when that movie came out because I was in Africa doing a movie called Baby: Secret of the Lost Legend. It was a long shoot. I never even saw the picture at all until 18 years later when I watched Dune on TV one day. I didn’t have a whole lot of thought about it, but I do remember the reshoot scene at the end that we shot day for night. I thought that was pretty good.

Young harbors no ill will toward the filmmakers for reducing her role of Chani almost to the point of haiku.

SEAN YOUNG (Actor, “Chani”): This is going to sound ridiculous, but I couldn’t have cared less. It didn’t matter to me. That’s show business. That’s what I mean about practicality. When you take stuff personally in show business, it makes life harder. How many people put their money in to make this movie? They paid you, right? They don’t owe you a storyline unless you put it in your contract: “I must have a storyline that takes up a half-hour of this picture at least.” Nobody will do that. If I could do one thing differently, it would be nice to appear in one of the gowns. Francesca got to wear nice gowns and she was also in the stillsuit, so she had both. Chani only had the stillsuit. That was it. Well, I had a little ropey see-through thing for the love scenes. It would have been nice to have a spiffed-up My Fair Lady moment. [Laughs.]

Molly Wryn did not discover that her major character of Harah—along with her entire storyline—had been almost completely excised from the finished film until she attended the premiere in Los Angeles.

MOLLY WRYN (Actor, “Harah”): Imagine? My heart crushed. Broke. It hurt. David had said to me not long before that, “You know, some of your stuff has been cut.” Something very gentle. I said, “Okay.” But I had no idea I was completely cut. They even shot me for the credits, when they show everybody’s face, but didn’t use it, which was sad. I remember how shocked I was. And then at the end, not even my face that they filmed. It took a while, they film from all directions and then pick out what they want to use and … gosh, I’m getting teary about it. 

Harlan Ellison wrote articles at the time alleging that Frank Price of Universal thought Dune was “a dog” and was deliberately withholding it from the press.

FRANK PRICE (President of Universal Pictures, 1983–86): Not a dog. It was not bad. David Lynch does good work. Harlan Ellison was always around with a chip on his shoulder.

PAUL M. SAMMON (Universal Pictures Publicity Executive): Prior to its release, there was a great deal of journalistic interest in Dune. Fan interest was somewhat split prior to the film’s opening, though. There was the inevitable skepticism of, “Isn’t this the same producer who gave us that mediocre remake of King Kong?” That was balanced by Frank Herbert’s very vocal enthusiasm about how faithfully David Lynch was “doing” his book. In fact, I included some footage of Frank heartily (and genuinely) endorsing Dune in my “Destination Dune” convention featurette, but then the release date kept being pushed back and audience/press interest began waning. CRAIG CAMPOBASSO (Production Office Assistant): They didn’t do any press screenings. That’s where all that anger came from the press. People started writing bad stuff because of that.

FRANK PRICE (President of Universal Pictures, 1983–86): Oh yeah. You don’t want to give critics time to destroy you. I had a picture at Columbia that is a good example, called Neighbors. It had John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd. When we test-screened it, audiences hated it. I told the marketing head, “Get every theater you can get, every seat, because we’ve got to get everything out in a week.” We did great business for a week, and then it collapsed. Word of mouth destroyed it. But with Dune, you can’t get your money back in a week.

CRAIG CAMPOBASSO (Production Office Assistant): They didn’t want anybody to knock it down before it was released, but not letting them see it had the opposite effect. Then the movie came out, and it just didn’t do well.

THOM MOUNT (President of Universal Pictures, 1976–83): The real problem was people didn’t show up. It’s hard to know. When we did The Deer Hunter, I was told by everybody repeatedly that the picture would be a total failure, that no one wants to see this long exegesis on our painful exit from Vietnam. Six Academy Awards and hundreds of millions of dollars in income later, they were wrong. But on the other hand, you’re talking to the guy who gave Xanadu the go-ahead. I know what it is to lose every dime.

Despite the wild reactions, much of the cast and crew weren’t blaming Lynch.

FREDERICK ELMES (Additional Unit Cinematographer): What’s on the screen isn’t really David’s film. It’s a different edit. It’s a different version of the film, and that made me very sad.

TERRI HARDIN (Stillsuit Fabrication, Stunt Double): People would say, “Oh, that movie was so terrible.” What you don’t realize is there’s like seven hours on the cutting room floor. Frank Herbert at the screening was devastated, so sad that he had to show us this movie. I think he had seen it before, but he was heartbroken by the movie. So many people were disappointed by the results. The De Laurentiises weren’t at our screening, mostly the builders and below-the-line people. It was supposed to be two films, and it became one, really short and really not very comprehensible.

KENNETH GEORGE GODWIN (Production Documentarian): I knew there was stuff that would have made a stronger film. You’re 45 minutes into it before the Harkonnens attack, and mostly what we’ve got is just setting up all these royal families. You’ve got this huge exposition at the beginning, then a pretty rushed midsection. After he’s with the Fremen, they start to follow him and attack … That’s all compressed into a couple of montages. There was way more shot. Then you’ve got the ending, a big battle scene. A huge chunk of the meat of the story got ditched.

GILES MASTERS (Art Department): The stories of what David went through are well-documented, and it wasn’t the film that he wanted. It wasn’t the film most of us expected to see when we went to the premiere. Everybody was a little like, “Oh, what happened?”

LUIGI ROCCHETTI (Makeup Artist): In addition to the human side of Lynch, I admire his vision of things. The film could have been better. It’s a very complicated and difficult story to tell, and surely David’s version was better when it was uncut.

KENNETH GEORGE GODWIN (Production Documentarian): If David had been left alone with the editor, it would have been better, had more coherence. The emphasis was never so much on the story as on creating four different worlds with all their architecture, the sense that these places all have different histories, different societies. That kind of world-building appealed to him more than the story of this kid who becomes a god.

JANE JENKINS (Casting Director): I don’t know that I ever understood it any better than when I struggled through the book. I think that the movie was not as successful as David could have made it. He had a vision to do it in black and white. He didn’t want to do it in color. I think that it had the potential if David had been left entirely to his own devices to make it a stronger movie. There was a lot of interference in his version, but [he] was not a powerful enough director at that point in his career to say, “All right, everybody back off,” and have final cut. Even though I found Eraserhead very odd, to say the least, all his films have been very interesting. Dune is probably the least successful [of his films] because he didn’t have enough control to do what he wanted.

RAFFAELLA DE LAURENTIIS (Producer): Look, it’s not an easy adaptation. If you have not read the book and you’re not familiar with the book, you’ll get lost easily. One of the mistakes—and I’ll take responsibility for that—was David would have probably been a lot more esoteric, but I was concerned about people being able to follow the story. Sometimes I was pushing to explain things, to remain close to the book, to be faithful to the book. I’m not sure that was always the right decision to make.

Excerpt adapted from A Masterpiece in Disarray: David Lynch’s Dune—An Oral History by Max Evry. Published by arrangement with 1984 Publishing LLC. Copyright © 2023 Max Evry.

[neo-contemporaryfailure]

A chest cold tests Olive and Jack's relationship; Jack thinks about his time with Mary.

JACK is half awake, laying face down, in bed. Olive, across the room, is pulling on a wrap dress over a leotard. 

JACK

Why are you here?

OLIVE

I've been thinking of taking a ballet class. I'm getting a bit rusty. But I enjoy our mornings in the studio much more. So imagine my surprise when I get there this morning and you aren't there-

JACK

But why are you here?

OLIVE

God forbid I see my husband in the morning. Just wanted to make sure you're alive.

JACK 

I'd never kill myself without telling you.

OLIVE

Gentleman. I wanted this dress and I wanted my shoes that match. I have a bag that goes with it at my place, I'm not sure why this dress never made it over.

JACK

Why are they here?

OLIVE

I spend too much time with you. 

JACK 

A woman's place is in her apartment. 

OLIVE 

Yet another thing we agree on. 

She looks at him with genuine affection. Disgusting (and she knows it.)  She sits next to him and messes with his hair. He half rolls over and swats her away. 

OLIVE 

(Thoroughly entertained)

Do you want me to pick you up a bottle of NyQuil? You look like shit.

JACK

No. That garbage isn't good for you.

OLIVE picks up a bottle of pills off the nightstand, she reads the label.

OLIVE

You're right. Secobarbital is all you ever need. 

She opens the drawer and puts the pill bottle in it. Among others.

OLIVE

Okay, my lord. Whose kneecaps do I have to break for getting you sick? Was it Maurice? 

JACK

I think it was the kid’s brat. Children are disgusting. 

OLIVE 

Well that's unfortunate. I have a “no killing children” rule. Guess avenging you will have to wait 12 more years.  See you at the studio tomorrow morning?

JACK gives a thumbs up. OLIVE leaves.

JACK'S MIND. Or maybe the past.

A huge stage. People around him.  Jack is 18 years old. 

Bright  lights. The ensemble is singing.

He is dancing, and has been for at this point, 7 minutes straight. 

The number changes into a waltz. He waltzes with Mary. Her eyes are serious. 

She is whisked off stage. 

The number changes again, into the culmination of the show, something big and serious that makes the audience want to stay. JACK keeps dancing, now doing tap. 

It's so aggressive. 

He continues, and continues, and continues, then, in one final moment, sticks the landing to thunderous applause. Lights go down, the curtain falls. He cannot breathe. One of the ensemble members helps him off stage.

MARY

(quiet)

I need you not to look like you're trying so hard. It's distracting.

JACK nods. He loosens his collar.

JACK

I'm trying.

MARY furrows her brow.

MARY 

Get some fresh air. You're turning purple.

Back to now.

JACK is taking a cold shower because he's a freak. His eyes are closed.

The living room. JACK enters.

OLIVE is on the sofa. She's reading a book. Her ankle is wrapped in an bandage and resting up on the arm of the sofa.

JACK

What happened?

OLIVE looks up.

OLIVE

I fucked the landing right before intermission. Greg dropped me a half moment too early and my ankle rolled and I fell flat on my face.

JACK

Why didn't you call? I would've gone down there and yelled at you.

OLIVE 

I did. You didn't answer. But I managed the second act. I'll probably be fine tomorrow, if I rest it tonight, which I'm doing and that's why I'm here instead of going all the way out to my place. Sorry if you had a flu-orgy planned tonight.

JACK shrugs and goes into the other room.

BACK in Jack's mind.

Another day from the same show as before. Something has changed, a costume or an orchestration, it's been a few days.

We are at the beginning of the tap segment. Jack is working so hard and everyone can tell it. He looks younger than he is. 

Suddenly, he stumbles, he stops dancing. He steps back.

The ensemble doesn't know what's going on, but they keep working. 

JACK gets back to it, but he's all messed up. He keeps trying. 

MARY, watching him from off stage, is confused.

He can't do it. 

He can't do any of it. He stops dancing again, he stumbles back. He falls over. The audience laughs.

MARY gestures for someone to grab him, then zips out and finishes the number herself, so casually.

A few moments later. JACK sits. Behind him is one of the ensemble members, who is sorta propping him up. So nice.

MARY enters. Everyone speaks in whispers.

MARY

Extra long intermission, I got us 10 more minutes. 

She kneels in front of Jack. She barely looks real. She looks like she's going to say something. Mary is not the type of person who can obscure frustration on her face.

MARY

We need to give him something to– does anyone have some- shoot what's it- dexedrine? Get him some of those, he'll be good to go.

Everyone looks at her like she's insane.

Back to now!

Olive is way too close to Jack. She is sitting  on his chest, staring into his soul. Jack shoves her away as he snaps back into the real world. They're in the bedroom.

OLIVE

You weren't breathing.

JACK

Yes I was.

OLIVE

I came in here and you weren't breathing. What'd you take?

JACK

Liv, I have a chest cold. I'm not shooting up heroin.

OLIVE

Heroin no. Mixing barbiturates with whatever the fuck your dealer is calling coke–

JACK

Jesus Christ. Fuck off.

OLIVE

You're freaking me out, Jack. 

JACK sits up, he's disoriented for a moment. He looks for a pack of cigarettes.

JACK

 Fucking hysterical.

Jack finds his cigarettes. Yippee. He lights one. 

OLIVE

I'm calling them and telling them to send the understudy– Don't smoke. Don't smoke, Jack, come on. 

JACK

Make me.

She grabs the cigarette. She puts it out. 

OLIVE

Let's go sit outside.

They sit on the balcony. It's mid morning. Jack has his hands over his eyes. Olive is stretching.

JACK 

How's your ankle?

OLIVE

I didn't know you had the capability to remember something from two whole days ago. Impressive. It's fine, thank you. You're so kind and considerate.

JACK

City air is making me feel worse.

OLIVE

Do I need to bring you to the seaside for your delicate constitution? Are you wasting away from consumption?

Jack doesn't get it.

JACK

I don't think so.

OLIVE

You look like a corpse.

JACK

When you were sitting on my chest, my first thought was, “I can't breathe.” My second thought was, “this bitch needs to lose 10 pounds.” No wonder Greg dropped you.

OLIVE

I cannot wait to take everything from you in the divorce.

Jack stands up. Woozy, a bit, he goes back inside. Olive follows.

JACK

Go do the show, Liv. I'll be mad if you don't…

Jack's mind again. Somewhere, Jack isn't focused on where, he is sitting. Mary is sitting up close to him. She's all he notices.

MARY

Jack. Look at me. I'm not saying this to hurt you. I'm not mad at you. I want you to understand that this show needs to go forward.

JACK 

I can do it.

MARY

Buddy, kiddo, you can't. You've made it clear that you can't pull it off. Not for 8 shows a week. I can't have you nearly dying every intermission. 

JACK

I can do it. I have the skills–

MARY

And you have the talent and you have the chutzpah, I know. But Jack, I built that number around how you can move, just because you can move that way doesn't mean you should.

JACK 

(As hurt as humanly possible)

You don't think I can do it.

MARY

You can't. You tried and you couldn't pull it off. You're not meant to do it. 

JACK

But I'm ruining your show.

MARY

Bert and I already found someone to replace you. Nothing is ruined. You just can't do it. There are all sorts of things in life that you just have to fail at. And you failed at it, Jack. Okay? Everyone fails all the time. It's a part of life.

JACK

Mary, let me try again. Please. Mary.

MARY

It's been 4 days, Jack. The- the show has to go on. Okay? You know that.

JACK 

You asked me to do this show and I have to do it for you, Mary.

Mary looks so overwhelmed by this pathetic loser.

MARY

You're gonna break my heart, Jack. You're going to make me cry. Don't do that. Just tell me it's okay. I know you know that it's for the best if I fire you.

JACK

I don't want you to fire me because I can do it. This show is important, Mary, I can't ruin it.

MARY

Jack, you're going to ruin it if you keep trying to play this role. You can't do it. You don't have the tenacity, you don't have the endurance, you have asthma. You need to be the one who decides that this is not the best option for you as a person.

JACK

I don't care if it is. I can do it and I'm going to do it, until I can't.

MARY

Jack. You are at the can't. Now, you can either let me fire you or force me to. And you force me to, it's going to hurt me a lot. I don't want to send you back to New York upset with you. I need you to tell me you'll be okay if I replace you.

Ouch. Mary touches his face and looks him in the eyes. Maybe there's love, or maybe it's just frustration. 

MARY

Say it, please.

JACK

Okay.

Mary hugs him.

MARY

You're fired.

She pulls away. She looks at him. She's very serious but she's not honest.

MARY

This show means less to me than your life, Jack. You understand that?

Jack nods.

MARY

Okay. So you're going to go back to New York, you're going to my place, you're going to recover, and then when we're in New York, you're going to come back and help me finish up the choreography, you understand that? There's always room for you, Jack. There's always going to be a place. It's just not opposite me.

Back to now.

Jack and Olive sit in the living room. It's a few hours later. Olive is reading a book, half resting on him. How embarrassing, enjoying being with a person. Cringe.

Olive adjusts and looks at him. He is a bit startled to see her.

OLIVE

What?

JACK

I forgot you were still here.

OLIVE 

You were mumbling in your sleep.

JACK

I was thinking about Mary.

OLIVE 

You know I saw her at the the ballet once. As a little girl. I thought she was so beautiful.

JACK

She was. Did I tell you that she fired me?

OLIVE

You have. And to that, I say that, when you and I did the Sunshine number the first time you kept adjusting my legs so I'd stop overextending even though it looked better. 

JACK

Mary didn't believe in limitations. She wanted more of everything. 

OLIVE

Viability, Jack. The perfect dancer only exists in science fiction. The viable dancer is in the room.

Olive adjusts again, this time sitting closer to him. He puts his arms around her and closes his eyes.

[my-head-is-an-animal]

Problems With The Heart

Greg House x Dr Anna Harding (OFC)

Story Masterlist

Chapter 12 - Mirror Guy And Monsters

House knew she wouldn’t ask about why, but she did sit with him when he woke up and asked him for advice on a couple patients. He eventually made it out of the hospital bed with a last word from Cuddy and headed up to Anna’s office where she was filling out paperwork.

He entered and sat down opposite her, giving her a few moments of silence, before speaking.

‘We good?’ He asked. Anna sighed and finally looked up at him.

‘Why wouldn’t we be?’ She had an understanding look in her eye, there was a real possibility that she knew exactly why he did it and had already forgiven him.

‘No reason.’ He shook his head.

‘Okay.’ She nodded and got back to work.

‘Come over tonight.’

‘Give me a reason to.’

House smiled as he caught her playful glint and stood up to leave, knowing they really were fine.

House had the team dig up a body and was showing off in front of Anna while she did her paperwork from his office. It was a good week in cardiology and her job seemed to be following him around.

He went down to talk to the remaining team members in the lecture hall and Anna watched him go about his usual façade of brilliance. He was showing off in front of her, but the fact that her eyes were on him was a difficult feeling to shake.

‘Why is she here?’ One of them asked.

‘Eye candy.’ House remarked. ‘Not for you, for me.’

He continued on and Anna continued to watch him for the rest of the week. She walked past just as Big Love punched him in the face. Anna went into his office and sighed.

‘Need a referee?’ She asked. ‘Or an ice pack?’

‘I could do with an endorphin boost.’ House tried his luck whilst checking how much he was actually bleeding.

Anna rolled her eyes. ‘You going to punch him again?’

‘No.’

‘Cool, I’m heading home.’ She said and left his office.

‘She’s awesome, right?’ House joked. They eventually managed to figure out what was wrong with the patient and he fired one of the best people he ever met.

Foreman coming back was the one thing he really didn’t see coming. The first case he had was a patient who mirrored anyone he came into contact with. Anna didn’t dare go to the room without House or his team, but when she did it was clear who the dominant one between them was.

‘You’re so hot.’ The patient said, his eyes rolling over House. ‘Like amazingly hot and you’re pain makes me feel better.’

‘You’re a sick person.’ House said to Anna who just laughed. ‘Do you have a thing for cripples?’

‘God no, I have a thing for people aren’t clingy.’

‘Interesting. What else do you like?’

‘House come on.’ Anna still had a smile on her face. ‘Leave the guy alone.’

The patient then started to cry. ‘What’s wrong with me?’ He whined. ‘Do you know what’s wrong with me?’ No one spoke. ‘I know I’m a monster, but someone has to know how to fix that. Can you fix that? Please, please fix me, make me better.’ The patient sobbed until Anna left the room. House had gone too far.

He got his team to get on with their jobs and went out after her. She was already at the elevator.

‘Anna!’ He called catching up just before the door closed. She rolled her eyes and turned away from him. ‘You’re not a monster.’ He said.

‘I know.’

‘Then why did mirror guy say otherwise?’

‘You really want to do this in a lift?’

‘I’d rather not do it at all, but my girlfriend thinks there’s something wrong with herself.’

‘Oh, I’m your girlfriend now, am I?’

House backed down straight away. He tapped his cane against the floor of the elevator and took a breath.

‘No.’ He sighed. ‘But I’d like you to be.’

Anna head snapped round to face him. The doors opened and he was aware that people were waiting for them to get out. She eventually realised the same thing and wandered out towards her office. It was a moment before he decided to follow her, he needed an answer.

‘Anna.’ He called a little softer, following her all the way to her office. She left the door open, not being petty enough to close it on him.

‘What do you want me to say?’ She was upset, he could tell that much. House closed the door so that they could argue quietly. ‘Yes, I think I’m a monster, yes, I think there’s something wrong with me, yes, I’m still… I’m still in love with you.’ House looked up at her bright blue eyes.

‘But you’re still saying no.’

She nodded. ‘I don’t think this is meant to be more than fun.’

‘You don’t believe that.’ House refused to accept that. ‘You want to be with me, you want more the same as me, but you’re too self-centred to do anything about it. You’re using me to get what you need.’

‘You’re using me just as much.’ She shot back.

‘Well, maybe that’s the problem.’ He said a little more calmly. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t be using you at all.’

‘If you want this to stop, you only have to say so.’ Anna put her hands on her hips and exhaled.

‘I don’t want this to stop, I want more and so do you!’ House snapped. He took a breath and recomposed himself. ‘I want to be with you and I’m not going to stop asking until you make me believe that you don’t.’

House left her office and head back down to his own.

If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!

[binary-star-lilies]

It’s day 5! I did some writing for today because I had no good concepts for a drawing. This felt weirdly vulnerable to write, but I like how it turned out for the most part.

Fandom: House M.D

Paring(s): Greg House/James Wilson

Characters: Greg House, James Wilson, (Lisa Cuddy is mentioned)

Warnings: flashbacks, referenced/implied trauma, slight self-injury 

(I swear it’s not as bad as it sounds, mostly hurt/comfort)

Day 5: Sick Day

“Hey, hey, breathe” Wilson reaches out a hand almost as a lighthouse signal.

“It- it won’t come off” house frantically scrubs his fingernails and hands, and let’s the hot water berate his skin.

“I understand,  but you’re starting to bleed” Wilson takes a step forward hesitantly and house glances up for a beat before he stares at his hand again.

No matter what the beating down soil and dried blood wouldn’t come off, why, “I know there’s nothing, but I- it won’t come off”.

Wilson nods “I know”.

House trembles, his leg locking up and cramping. Hesitantly he turns off the water and lets the nail brush fall into the sink.

“Is it alright if I touch you?” Wilson asks and House mutters a ‘yes’.

“Okay, I’m going to dry your hands with a towel and we can sit on the bed instead” Wilson smiles softly and closes the distance between the two.

House averts his eyes from Wilson and instead places them squarely on his hands, they are forever marred by dirt and blood. He knows logically there must be nothing there, but he is unclean.

Wilsons hands suddenly interrupts his sight line, they are soft and less worn, clean.

Wilson dries House's hands off with care, of course he’d insist on the softest towels, and right now House is glad, because it didn’t hurt.

Tossing the towel unto the washing basket Wilson says, “I made some tea, and I even bought that fancy you like”. House chuckles and nods as Wilson places a hand on Houses making him intently aware that he was scratching his skin.

“C’mon, you’re about to collapse” Wilson says, and House doesn’t argue as the biting pain was becoming less easy to push down. Wilson guides them to his bedroom as it is closer and they both fall down onto the bed.

“I’ll call Lisa” Wilson says as he opens the first aid kit.

“Sure” House responds absentmindedly as he stares at Wilsons nicely kept hands fumble with the gauze. Wilsons brows furrow in frustration for a moment before he seems to successfully get it to work with him.

Wilson takes House's hands and begins to wrap the gauze around his fingers.

“This is unnecessary” House complains and Wilson sends him a look responding, “I know, but I want to”. House rolls his eyes, “You don’t need an elaborate ploy to get me into your bed, i’d gladly do it”.

Wilson huffs a laugh and the room falls silent. The tremors settle a bit as Wilson wraps his fingers and knuckles, “Are you alright for me to leave for a moment?”.

House curls his lips, “I’m not five, promise I’m not going to stick a knife into an electrical socket”.

Wilson raises a brow and stands up before disappearing out and the room chills again. House can hear his breath reverberate through the room, and the low hum of life in the kitchen.

Absentmindedly tapping his fingers to a simple tune, House stares into the ill lit bedroom, he looks at the family heirlooms and what few personal possessions that’s kept in the room.

House feels as if he’s seen dozens of incarnations of, same few objects in shared bedrooms, hotel rooms, leased apartment, mixed in with his.

“I’ve got it covered, thank you so much. I’ll call you later” Wilsons voice is heard as his head pops back into the bedroom. His phone is lodged between his ear and shoulder.

“Cuddy?” House inquires and Wilson nods.

Setting down two cups of tea and his phone on the bedside table, Wilson gets back onto the bed beside House and leans back. House smiles quickly to himself as Wilson yawns.

“It’s not even 8 am yet” House teases and Wilson scowls at him as he falls down on the other man's shoulder.

“Fuck off House, I worked late yesterday”, Wilson says mopingly.

House doesn’t mind as Wilson yawns again as his hair flops down in his face, just then House is reminded of when they first met.

How pretty the man destroying antique mirrors was, how pretty he looked slightly hungover sitting in a police station, his slightly damp hair falling over his eyes, and at this moment House wanted nothing more than for that to be his life.

Foolish and silly but at this moment that thought is enough to breathe steadily.

[eruanna1875]

The Lost Boys (Guidesman, C1)

Chapter Four: Candy and Rocks

C1 on Tumblr: First - Previous - Next

~~*~~

Wirt made it to the edge of the clearing and nearly collapsed against a tree, gasping desperately. The Beast. The Beast was after them. He clapped a hand to his chest and shut his bugged eyes. Oh, that crazy Woodsman was right. These woods were no place for them.

He heard feet too small for a Beast running up behind him. “This is amazing!” came the oblivious voice of Greg. Apparently delighted at their doom.

“We should get out of here before the Beast comes back out,” Wirt breathed, glancing over his shoulder. He eyed the mill. He eyed the forest. “Should we try to make a break for it? Although the Beast seems like it’d be fast. We could try to climb a tree, or…”

“But Kitty isn’t a tree frog! His hands aren’t sticky enough! See?” And he lifted the frog’s slimy ‘hands’ toward Wirt’s face.

“Ew, Greg, no! Stop that!”

Before he could finish his protest, a half-howl broke the air. Wirt yelped and darted behind a tree, then shot out a hand to yank Greg back. After all, he was in plain sight where he was standing. The Beast would’ve totally found them.

From his hiding spot, Wirt saw the Beast hurtle through the empty doorway, scampering (not playfully) out of the mill. It still snarled. Its teeth were still bared. And its eyes were still—

Well, he still hated them. That glow. It was like nothing that should be. Like everything light shouldn’t be. Like… like if madness and murder and evil itself had eyes.

Feeling sick at the sight, he pried his gaze away. There were other colours on the Beast than those in its eyes. Red was one, streaked across its snout. That was from the axe, right? Or had it only glanced off? Maybe the Beast had gotten the guy. Although, to be fair, it probably wasn’t… er, messy enough for that. Which was good. Even if the guy was loony, it would’ve been awful to think about.

There was a wordless shout—not Greg’s—that shook him from his thoughts and overthoughts. Then:

“Look, Wirt!”

As he stared after Greg’s pointed finger, Wirt saw a shape in the doorway. A second later, the Woodsman burst through, brandishing his axe. Oh, the blood was definitely not his. What’s more, the Beast made a noise almost like… a whimper? Yeah! Still part snarl, but definitely with some whimper. It dodged away from the blade, then snapped at him and dodged again. It looked like it was limping.

“He’s… beating it,” whispered Wirt, shocked. “He’s beating the Beast!”

“Yeah, he would’ve been pretty dangerous if we ran away and didn’t knock him out.”

“I told you to—oh, forget it.”

Despite Greg’s unwelcome reminder of his ex-plan, Wirt never turned. He kept his eyes glued to the fight at the mill. Though the Woodsman had been knocked down before, he was standing now. He didn’t look the least bit nervous.

“BACK!” he shouted, axe-blade flashing. “BACK, wereling!”

“Wereling?” The word confused Wirt. Was the Beast a werewolf? Or—no, it couldn’t be. The sun was still out, and the last moon he saw was half, not full. Maybe he’d ask, once the Woodsman chased it off. Sure, he didn’t seem one for straight answers, but with the Beast problem taken care of, maybe he would—

There was a rustle on the ground beside him.

Across the clearing, the Beast’s head popped up, ears standing at attention. Its eyes swept round the clearing, toward them.

No, no, no, what? It was supposed to be running away, why was it doing this now? Wirt glanced around frantically for the source of the noise.

He found Greg, standing with his hand out and candy at his feet. “Haha!”

“Greg, what are you doing?!” he whispered rapidly.

“I’m leaving a candy trail, like you said!”

“Shh!” Wirt glanced back up at the Beast. It was watching them.

“You shh!”

“You—”

With a snarl, the Beast bolted away from the Woodsman and started coming right towards them. Fast.

Wirt screamed and took off. Greg kept close by his side. They darted through the trees, doing all they could to avoid the creature behind them. It didn’t take long for Wirt to hear it at their backs, crashing into trees as it tried to follow their path. And, too, he could hear the Woodsman’s cry somewhere behind them. Calling them back, maybe?

Even if it was, they couldn’t turn around now.

At last, he saw something ahead. A huge rock, jutting up from the leaf-strewn floor of the forest. Hopefully, it would give them an advantage.

“There, Greg! Climb up on that rock!”

“Yay, rocks!”

They found a way up and clambered to the top. Once they made it, they sat a moment, just catching their breath. Wirt closed his eyes and flopped onto his back. This was a nightmare.

“Wow, if I could take this with me,” breathed Greg, beaming, “I could have some BIG rock facts!” And he threw out his hands wide. His frog rupped as if in agreement.

Wirt lifted his eyelids with a glare, turning his head. “Keep it down, the Beast will hear you.”

“Hey, I thought he said it was a werewolf!”

“Ugh, quiet, Greg! Just—” He leveraged himself up onto one elbow. “—just listen and see if you can hear it coming, okay?”

They both fell silent, listening close. They heard the breeze in the leaves. They heard the river, louder than before. Wirt guessed they had run to meet it further down, where the current was stronger.

But other than the water and the wind, it was perfectly quiet. Almost too quiet for a forest. Then again, it had always been a little like that, since the moment they first set foot inside. And that gave Wirt pause. When did they first set foot inside? When did they begin? How did they get lost? Somehow, he still couldn’t quite remember—

Huge jaws snapped at the edge of the rock, and Wirt shrieked. He scrambled back from the edge. The Beast was there, scratching at the sides of their stony refuge. Its eyes were just visible past the edge, like rising moons over a horizon of cold stone, portending their doom.

“Wirt, look!” Greg’s voice broke through his poetic despair as excitedly as if he were breaking a pinata. “I found pinecones!” And he held up his discovery proudly.

“AHH, gimme that!” Wirt snatched the cone from his brother’s hand and threw it at the Beast. It did little. But there were more. He kept throwing them, with fair-enough aim. But all the damage it seemed to do was to make the monstrous eyes blink.

Then, a harder strike. And not from one of his pinecones. A different object bounced off the creature’s head and fell at Wirt’s feet. It was a rock. Then another came. Then the stones did not come silently.

“Here, creature!” was the gruff shout. “Here!” And another rock.

Wirt craned his neck to peer over the side. He brightened in spite of himself. “Greg, i-it’s the Woodsman! See, he’s throwing rocks to distract the Beast!”

Greg gasped, and his already-wide eyes widened. “Am I supposed to throw something too?”

He didn’t need to. Upon the fourth rock, the Beast turned away from the boys, and began stalking toward the Woodsman. He held out his axe in both hands, at the ready. For the moment, the Beast had forgotten all about them.

“Come on, Greg,” whispered Wirt, “while it’s distracted.” And without another word, he scooted toward the back of the rock. His conscience nudged him a little. But after all, the Woodsman could take care of himself. He was about to run the Beast off anyway, before Greg distracted it. He’d be fine.

Wirt scrutinized the stony surface. It looked smooth enough, and low enough. They should’ve been able to slide down without breaking their legs. So he started picking his careful way.

Easy…

…easy…

…not so easy.

“W-wh-whoa!!” Wirt lost his handhold, his foothold, his balance, and his composure. He squawked as he slipped, unable to catch anything to slow his fall. He landed roughly on his rump. “Owww…”

He started to get to his feet, but something crashed between his shoulderblades, shoving his face into the leaves.

“Wow, I fell on TWO people today! It’s a new record!”

“Get off, Greg, you almost broke my neck!” Wirt rolled over and shoved the six-year-old off. He was about to scold him for carelessness.

Black filled his vision as something shook the ground. A flash of eerie, pallid colours, far too close, made Wirt scramble back in terror. He didn’t even have to look up. He knew. The Beast had heard them.

The creature roared, and Wirt flinched, covering his head but unable to fully close his eyes. He heard Greg flop to the ground beside him. There was a horrible smell, like the oil from the trees the Woodsman had been cutting. Like woody blood. Wirt could hardly move.

“Oh!” Greg’s voice, cheerful of all things. “That’s what I can throw!” Another rustle: Greg was tossing his candy in the air. “Hee-hee!”

To Wirt’s surprise, the Beast pricked up its ears. It didn’t snarl at the assault or snap at his hands. Instead, it lowered its head and began… licking the ground?

“It’s—it’s eating your candy!”

Greg put his chin in his hand, looking far more thoughtful than Wirt gave him credit for. “I wonder if he ate my whole candy trail that led to that mill!”

It took only a couple of seconds for the sentence to click in his brain. But the click was loud. “AHH!” Wirt smacked his tin teapot. “Greg!!”

“What?”

He couldn’t answer before the sound of a roar sent him scrabbling. He and Greg shot off, leaves sent flying around them. It was only when he was running that he got his chance to scold again.

“I can’t believe you, Greg! You led the Beast right to us with your candy!”

“I thought you said we needed to leave a trail!”

“Before we were lost, we should’ve!”

“Pfft, how can you leave a trail before you’re lost? You’d already know where you are!”

“Greg, just—” But Wirt cut himself off with a gasp, skidding to a stop.

Greg slowed as he came up alongside. He pointed triumphantly, as if it was a triumph. “Look, Wirt! It’s a river!”

“Y-yeah, I see it,” Wirt nodded, trying to keep the unease out of his voice. It almost surprised him. After all, it was probably just the same river they’d seen feeding the mill. But if it was, it was much wider here. Faster. Deeper. And there were no stones to use for crossing.

“Come on, Wirt! Rover’s ready to go! Right, Rover?” And he held up his frog.

Wirt didn’t move.

“Wirt?”

“N-no,” he stammered out, finding a crack in his voice. “It’s—i-it’s too deep for us. We’d just drown if we tried to cross here.” He swallowed, taking a step back from the waterside. “We’ll… have to find another way.”

A thunderous thump behind them, and the boys spun round. That Beast simply would not leave them be. It had caught up again. And now there was no escape, nowhere left to go but back into the swirling, cold darkness of—

Back?

“Away, creature!” came a sudden shout, and a flashing blade came down.

Wirt’s mind was all in a whirl. It was moments before he could even focus on what was happening in front of him. When he did, he saw the Woodsman, and he saw him miss a strike. The Beast took its opportunity. With a huge heave of its head, it shoved him, knocking him off-balance. It sent him stumbling back.

He only just regained his footing, right next to the boys. Then, “What’re you waiting for?” he urged, a little breathless. “Across the river!” And he swung, keeping off a snap of those jaws.

“Wirt says it’s too deep. If I had my floaties, though, we could get across just—”

“Be quiet, Greg,” scowled Wirt, smacking his teapot again. “It’s your fault the Beast followed us here, you and your dumb candy.”

“Boy!”

The Woodsman’s sharpness startled Wirt. When he looked up, he found a stern glare shot straight at him across the old man’s shoulder.

“You have it backwards!” he rebuked, but with no hint of pettiness or irrelevance. There was weight in his voice. Even in the midst of all this, there was weight. “You are the elder child—you are responsible for your brother as well as for yourself!”

Wirt was dumbstruck. He’d never heard someone talk about Greg so seriously. He’d never been ascribed any responsibility so gravely. “I… but, I-I didn’t—”

A roar, one that could be felt in their bones. And the Woodsman stepped up in front of them. With stony gaze, he took his stance—right between them and the Beast—and leveled his weapon at the looming creature.

And somehow, Wirt was more afraid of doing nothing in that moment than of being eaten.

Stooping, he snatched a rock from the riverbed. His nervous hands fumbled it, but it didn’t drop. As he rose, he turned and spoke to Greg (purposefully banishing any harshness).

“Uhh, Greg—Greg, you, um, you gi-give him the rest of your candy!”

Greg obediently searched his pants. But his hands came up empty.

He moaned desperately, taking a step back (as far as he dared go). The Beast’s eyes were even closer now, blinding as a train’s headlight bearing down. All the more now was he aware of the river at his back. Panic began to build. But he only gripped the rock tighter.

Just then, he felt Greg pull at his cape. When he glanced down, there was a little red candy in his hand. How did he…?

There was no time to ask. Greg waddled out a little from behind the Woodsman, holding the candy up. Then, with a little “Whoops!”, he tossed it behind him into the water.

The Beast leaped.

And before it had sprung three feet, Wirt felt a strong arm over him, bringing him low to the ground, pulling him close, covering him.

There was a splash, and Wirt looked up. The Beast had leaped right into the water to get the candy. Now the current was too strong for it. No matter how it struggled and yelped, the Beast could not escape as it was pulled downstream.

And, as Wirt turned, he found that the Woodsman had dropped to his knees and ducked down over him and Greg.

The old man lifted his eyes, glanced to the river, then looked at them each in turn. “You boys all right?”

“No! I’m GREAT!” And Greg tossed his arms in the air (or one of them, anyway—the other still clutched his frog to his chest). He almost fell over from the effort. “Haha!”

“Wow,” breathed Wirt, still a little in a daze from the whole experience. He met the Woodsman’s gaze. “I… uh, th-thanks, but…” He shifted his grip on the rock. What could he even say? But we tried to knock you out? But we almost got you killed? But we’ve probably been pests since the minute we ran into you?

“…but why?”

At that, the edges of the Woodsman’s mouth twitched up, not quite in a smile, and the faintest glimmer sparked in his eye. “Boy, I am the elder of you both.”

[crystallineirises]

Succession 4.3: Connor’s Wedding Liveblog

I’ve never done one of these before AYE

I turned my phone OFF for this. Not silent, OFF

HERE WE GO

“dramatic music playing” no shit you know what show this is

KERRY LOOKS FLY

yeah he likes you *eyebrow raise*

Those letters are pretty cool 

NO THE GERRI SLANDER OH SHIT

SO WILL YOU GIVE HER THE HEADS UP

NICER 

“you were close” WELP is that what the kids are calling it

GIVE. HER THE WORD. TODAY.

*lively music*

Shiv in black is a mood

Tom is Joan Rivers this season i’m living

GREGGING

GREGLETS

GREGGIES

Willaaaaaaa a princess hoe is life ugh love her

I can’t believe the Togan girlies are winning i’m so thrilled for them

OH SHIT CYD TOO

Karolina watch your ass 

DAMN Karolina said fuck my work wife

THEME SONG

my comment about Gerri blowing these fools away with hat!pistol really would be justified 

DAMN I’m glad I switched to the Ted Lasso side as far as romantic ships for this season cause we ain’t winning over here

GOLF CART RICH BITCH

Omg is that Laurie

babygurl is STRESSED

TOM LOOKIN SINISTER

MARTYN

GERRI KNOWS

SHE CANT GO TO EUROPE RUDE

WHY

DICPICGATE

SHE IS FUMING

I’M GOOD

The I’M GOOD heard around the WORLD

OH NO THE TEARS 

OOOOOOH this was bruuuutaaaallll

This poor wedding planner lol that’s gonna be me in two weeks

BEING CUNTY

ARE YOU BEING A CUNT

Kendall looking sharp AF go bitch go

Sup Julie you’re an icon too 

Every assistant level person on this show is an icon

Gerri’s like let me get wasted it’s about go down go DOWN 

Roman why’s your hair so fucked lol i know we’ve talked about it but like wow

What if that was Gerri texting him pictures of her pussy lol

This bitch ain’t sick stop lol

Wait

Wut

OH 

OH FUCK

guess it’s not 9/11 part 2 guess it’s just an old man being an old man lol

Oh it’s Grey’s Anatomy all of a sudden

ON THE GROUND

ON THE FLOOR

TONIGHT WE GON GET IT ON THE FLOOR

his poor sad voice BABYGIRL

YOU DID A GOOD JOB

my heart feels all PANICKED

wow no one thought to start looking for Shiv Jess would never let this happen

SHIVY HONEY

this camera work is beautiful 

I CAN’T HAVE THAT

Sarah Snook’s shaking hands just won her an Emmy

Not to be rude but does this mean Gerri is saved

lovely good plane people

JESS my other baby girl

KEN GO INSIDE WE DON’T LIKE KEN BY WATER

OH wow pilots saying no 

“he’s flying the plane, son” LOL

we were really thinking we’d have to wait around all season for this NO BITCH THIS iS LIVE

Damn

*pours one out*

I just literally poured seltzer water on my carpet

Damn Kerry I sure hope you got that baby though 

GASP

CONNOR

the framing of this shot is gorgeous 

HENEVEREVENLIKEDMEEEEEEEEEEEE

i never got the CHANCE to make him proud of ME

Weddings are just really not good for these people

i wonder how fuckin rich they just got dude lol

oh Roman is the babiest babygirl bad day for Roman all around

And Gerri can’t even comfort him or NOTHIN 

SQUAD

Karolina is that bitch and i’m so about it put her high up in the Kerry/Jess administration

okay $100 bucks says Kerry murdered him

KAROLINA SAID GET OUT LEAVE RIGHT NOW 

Gerri > POTUS as it should be 

DELETE THE LOGISTICS

oh TOM I LOST MY PROTECTOR Togan was real AF for these three episodes

GASP Gerri 

Oh Karolina tryna make up now I don’t know about that 

“are you just with me for money” you...but...like...

Reagan’s with tweaks lol

How do they know already wow did Greg fuck that up 

THAT THE DANCE YOU LIKE SHIV STAY SWINGING

ooook oooooh they’re alone in a room 

Just kidding Roman’s outside now 

CONTROLLL TO GET WHAT I WANT 

GANG IS BACK 

OH HE WANTED HER TO HOLD HIM SO BADLY DAMN us Roman/Gerri babies is suffering 

These strings are going crazy hell yeah scoring

lol everyone with their handshakes

PRESS PRESS PRESS PRESS PRESS LOGANS DONT NEED MORE PRESS

WE INTEND TO BE THERE BAM

Roman said yeaaaah i know it’s stupid, i just gotta SEEEE it for MYSELFFF

[dailycamart]

i can be your home, only for the night if you want, so you don't have to be alone and if your day was long, i'll be there to ask you, "what went wrong, my dear?"

[goldencherriess]

Sentiment.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem! Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Requested? Yes! And it was by @gaitwae (i hope you like it <;3)

Summary: Sherlock finds himself entranced by Lestrade's best friend and co-worker.

Warnings: kinda office romance, fluff

Masterlist

Sherlock Holmes was a man of pragmatism and cold truth. He could answer to any question, he could find a resolve in everything (science always played a part in this sense), but when his dear roommate and companion, John Watson, suggested that maybe the suspect was in love with the victim's wife, he felt repulsed by the idea.

"Absolutely not, John! Have you paid attention to the details, to the facts?"

John's eyebrows shot to the top of his head. "Have you?"

Scoffing, Sherlock put his hands in the coat's pockets. "Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side. No, we're dealing with a cold murderer this time, not some love sick puppy. If he were in love, his eyes pupils would have dilated when we asked about her, but they did not. And I-'' he trailed off when he saw a familiar mop of hair appearing behind John and talking to Lestrade, a notebook in her arms.

John turned around, eyebrows still raised and he crossed his arms, a smirk finding its way on his lips. His eyes met Sherlock's again. "You were saying?"

Sherlock licked his suddenly dry lips and blinked. "I, uh-"

"Cat got your tongue, Sherlock?"

It was as if Sherlock's brain short circuited, cutting all the ties to reality. He blinked and gulped thickly. ''When in love and looking at the object of all your desires and affection, your pupils get dilated. The pulse gets increased and you feel your breath leaving you. But that's not true, that's just an illusion, it's your body reacting to hormones. It's just pure science, really.'' he said, whispering the last part and never taking his eyes off of Y/N.

She was laughing now, touching Lestrade's arm and shaking her head in amusement. And Sherlock felt his stomach twisting into something he couldn't name. He tilted his head. ''I'm right, aren't I, John?''

''I don't know, Sherlock, but it doesn't seem so to me.''

Sherlock's gaze slowly left Y/N's figure and met John's eyes. His eyebrows pinched together. ''Why do you say that?''

John's smirk never left his lips. ''Your pupils dilated.''

Sherlock nodded, a realization dawning on him. And his eyes were again on her, just drinking her in. ''They did, didn't they?''

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Y/N L/N was a woman of soft love and indulging daydreams. A pure romantic at heart, she could find meaning in every glance and smile (she did learn best from Jane Austen). But when her best friend and co-worker, Greg Lestrade, inquired about her new crush, she mumbled an excuse, blushing furiously and averting his gaze.

"Oh come on! I know you, Y/N! Been knowing you for years now. So, who is it?"

Shaking her head, Y/N replied. "No one."

Lestrade furrowed. "Then why are you blushing?"

''Why are we talking about this now? We're at a crime scene.'' she almost snapped.

Lestrade pursed lips, nodding and putting his hands in his pockets, his gaze looking in the distance at nothing particularly. And for awhile, neither of them said anything, the bustling of the forensic pathologists filling the air. Y/N fumbled with the notebook in her arms, her gaze sliding towards a certain curly haired man. They rarely talked about anything other than work, but she always found herself enticed by what he was saying. His mind worked in mysterious and interesting ways and she only wished to understand it more, to be the one overtaking his thoughts. Just like he did hers.

He met her eyes across the room and she felt her face flush. He acknowledged her with a nod of his head and she smiled his way.

''It's Sherlock, isn't it?'' voiced Lestrade besides her.

She snapped her head towards him, almost getting a whiplash. ''What?''

He just laughed. ''I'll be sending you over to him with work more often, then.''

Her laugh matched his and she smacked his arm, while shaking her head. ''You're impossible.''

''But the best!''

''At annoying me, maybe.''

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Sherlock kept coming to crime scenes with John as he usually did. And things just went as they usually did. Anderson and Donovan were insufferable as ever, making wrong assumptions and awful comments. Graham (or was it Greg?) was useless as ever and John muttered praises under his breath, as always (''That's brilliant, Sherlock!'').

Except this time he was suddenly hyperaware of her presence. She always seemed to be there, in the corner of the room silently watching him work through the mystery and fog. It clouded his mind. He blinked, trying to get rid of the incorrigible thoughts and the tightness in his chest. He cleared his throat and risked a glance at John, who had his eyebrows raised. ''Right, well, uh, I have to think about this one, really mull it over.''

He straightened his back, popping the collar of his coat. But then, he looked at her and paused in his tracks. ''Unless, Y/N has anything to add to the case.''

She seemed lost in thought because once her name was spoken, by Sherlock no less, she snapped out of it, a blush adorning her cheeks. She visibly gulped and took a step forward, hugging her notebook closer to her chest. Her eyes met his and she had to inhale just so she could breath again. He was looking at her so intensely that she felt like she was being analyzed under the microscope, as if he could read through her. As if he could take her apart, soul by soul, layer by layer.

Y/N tore her eyes away from his and flipped through her notebook, only stopping when the date of today caught her attention. ''Well, uh, I believe the victim's wedding ring is missing.''

''There wasn't any wedding ring.'' interrupted Lestrade, frowning.

She nodded. ''Exactly. If you look at her left hand, you'd find the shadow of a wedding ring. She's very tanned, she must've returned from a vacation. Somewhere warm, as there isn't any sun in London. But she never did take off her wedding ring, the white line around her finger is the proof of that.''

''She could've just lost it.'' added John thoughtfully.

Sherlock remained quiet, his gaze pinned on Y/N, attention undivided by anything else but her. He was listening in, his mind screaming at the possibilities.

Y/N shook her head. ''No. The pictures of her husband in her wallet tell me otherwise. She cared. She wouldn't just let her ring get lost. There's something else there. Someone must've taken it. Maybe our killer.''

Sherlock's eyebrow arched and his eyes lit up. ''Impressive observation, darling.'' He started smiling and he grabbed her shoulders, leaning in to kiss her on both of her cheeks. ''Thank you!'' he said in a very excited voice, much like a kid would exclaim on a the Christmas morning at the sight of presents.

And he was off, the coat fluttering behind him in waves and leaving her flustered and red in the face. His kisses on her cheeks burned her like fireworks in the sky. She touched with shaking fingertips where his lips met her skin and she slightly smiled.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

221B was quiet, John gone God knew where. The rain was splattering against the windows in loud and almost thundering drops. Sherlock was sitting in his armchair, deep in thought, his hands lanced in a prayer position. He sighed and closed his eyes, his mind going off the rails.

The squeak of the front door pulled him to the reality. His eyes snapped open and his ears perked up. Light footsteps. Not John, as he walked harshly, his feet dragging behind him (he never actually left the war behind). Probably a woman, then. But not mrs. Hudson, as she always wore heels.

Sherlock slowly got up, his eyes never wavering from the door. The creeks of the stairs. Not a client, as the footsteps didn't sound urgent.

He was now in front of the door, touching the door knob and opening it like a storm cleaning everything in its path and he was met with the surprised eyes of Y/N L/N. She was drenching and panting, the rain really wearing her down. Her hair was soaking, raindrops falling from it and down onto the carpet with splashing sounds and the clothes were sticking to her skin and hugging her curves. Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek to not glance down her figure out of respect and dignity.

She sneezed, eyes closing and eyelashes shining with raindrops.

''Looks like you're catching a cold.'' Sherlock said in greeting.

She nodded before sneezing again.

''Bless you.''

She shivered and her arms hugged her waist in an attempt to find some warmth. Sherlock's eyes softened, but his voice remained impassible. ''Do come in, you're soaking my carpet.''

Flustered, the words came out of her mouth in a mess, closing in on each other and flying from the tip of her tongue. ''Uh, I'm sorry, didn't mean to- I just-''

''Save your energy and stop explaining yourself, you're obviously shivering and in dire need of a hot bath. Go do that, you're my guest. I'll prepare tea and get you some clothes to change in. Then we can talk.''

He gestured her towards the bathroom, before turning his back and leaving her with a red nose and a freezing face.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

He was stirring the tea when he heard her small footsteps padding on the floor. ''Do you take your tea with milk?'' he asked without looking up. ''I usually do and-'' Sherlock lifted his head and his words died in his throat. He finally understood the concept of your breath leaving you at the sight of something beautiful. Because Y/N was beautiful, a rare landscape. An oil portrait that deserved to be admired in a museum. Almost Mona Lisa like. She was wearing one of his old sweaters, back from his university days, and some worn out pants he found in the back of the wardrobe. She was wearing his clothes. Alas they were a bit too big on her, the sleeves of the sweater falling down her hands and swallowing them whole.

''No milk for me.'' she replied in a meek and already raspy voice. The cold was catching up to her.

He blinked the awe from his eyes and handed her a cup of tea. ''Careful, it's hot. And you should take some meds.''

She thanked him by nodding her head. ''Where's John?''

''With his new girlfriend, I presume.'' Sherlock scoffed, turning around and searching through the kitchen drawers. ''He's never out his late usually. He always goes to sleep early.''

''And you don't?''

''I don't sleep when I'm on a case.''

''But you need the sleep.''

Sherlock met her gaze and flipped towards her a bottle of medicine. ''And you need to take these.'' he replied with a sarcastic smile etched on his face. But his eyes betrayed his whole cold demeanor. They were soft, almost warm. And Y/N was afraid to maintain the eye contact for too long. His eyes haunted her. She felt vulnerable under his gaze. Exposed.

She thickly gulped. "Can you start the fire? I'm still a little bit cold."

"If you take the meds."

"I will."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I mean now."

She huffed, but complied anyways. The tea burned her throat, the aroma bursting in colors on her tongue and the sweet smell tickling her nostrils.

Sherlock nodded and then entered the living room, crouching down near the fireplace. "Why are you here?"

"Do you want me to leave?" she asked once she was seated in an armchair.

Sherlock glanced towards her. Y/N was sitting in his armchair, slowly sipping her tea and looking around curiously. No one actually sat on it, besides him. He never let anyone. He inhaled and tore his gaze from her and onto the split firewood in front of him. "Do you want to?"

"No." she replied, watching him.

He got up, the fire coming alive in reds and oranges, the wood cracking. "Then stay." His eyes didn't stray from her as he took a seat in John's chair. "Why are you really here, though? We're not actually friends, so you can't say you came to visit. You were panting, so you must have run all the way here. Unless, you missed the bus. But that can't be as you live on the other side of London. And you weren't planning it, either. If you did, you would have known they announced rain later today and you would have carried an umbrella. But you didn't, so I assume this was a spur of the moment idea. Am I correct so far?"

She blinked. "Yes, but-"

"And you didn't come on behalf of work, either. You would have carried some files and you would have been all business, no play, as you usually are." He leant forward on the seat, his arms coming to rest on his knees. "So, tell me, why are you here, Y/N?"

Her cheeks reddened and she shifted in her seat, her hands gripping the tea cup. "Did you just deduce me, mister Holmes?"

His eyebrow arched, hiding under a stray curl. "Why, was I wrong?"

Y/N shook her head. "Not a bit."

A smirk bloomed on his lips. "Of course I wasn't, darling. I never am."

"You're quite narcissistic." she replied, her eyes watching him over the rim of the cup.

"I believe the correct word would be modest."

She hummed, the corner of her eyes crickling in amusement. She gently put down her cup and looked him in the eye. The fire sprayed shadows on his face, the room in a low glow. "Did you solve the case, Sherlock?"

Confusion overtook his features. "Is this why you came all the way here?"

She shrugged inocently. "I was curious. Did you?"

He nodded, the fire reflecting in his eyes and ebony hair. "Yes. You helped me. When you told me about the wedding ring, a light went off in my head. I searched through her wallet. You were right, she cared too much to lose a wedding ring, it meant a lot to her. And I think someone got jealous."

Y/N arched an eyebrow. "An affair?"

"But not on her part, though. Love is a strong motive. It makes you do crazy things." Sherlock whispered.

His gaze burned her. He searched her eyes, as if he was hoping to find something in them, and then his gaze drifted off to her lips. "I know the signs." he said.

"What signs?" Y/N replied breathless.

"Your cheeks redden every time you look at me, your pupils dilate. You think I don't notice, but I do. Every time."

She swallowed. "Is that- Is that a bad thing?"

He got up to his feet and took slow steps, only stopping when he was close enough to take her wrist. A gentle touch. Her heart almost beat out of her chest and a lump formed in her throat when Sherlock leaned in to whisper into her ear, his breath warming her skin. "I took your pulse."

Y/N fluttered her eyes shut when she felt his lips skim over her jaw before he lightly kissed her cheek. "The feeling's mutual, by the way." he said in a low whisper, his lips caressing her afire skin.

And then he was up and away, smiling genuinely at her, a sparkle in his eyes. "You should get some rest. I'll be sleeping on the couch, you take the bed."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he beat her to it. "Please, you're my guest tonight. It would be my pleasure."

Y/N nodded, getting on her feet, her eyes meeting his chest. He was wearing the purple shirt he wore last week. His figure towered over her and he gently took her hand. "My room's that way. If you need anything, tell me. Good night, darling."

And he pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

John found the atmosphere weird that morning. His eyebrows were scrunching and he looked at Sherlock. "You're awfully quiet." he said while he spread butter on toast.

"Am I, really?" replied Sherlock, not taking his eyes off of the newspaper he was reading.

"Yes, you are. Don't you, usually, ramble about some newfound case?"

"Usually."

"Then, what's different this time?" replied John before he bit into the toast.

The clicking of a door and the sight of a just waken up Y/N made him choke on the food. "Careful, John, you'll die if you do that again. Good morning, darling. Tea?" said Sherlock in a sweet voice.

Y/N simply smiled at him, averting her gaze from John.

"I'm sorry, I feel like I'm missing something." laughed John.

"No, John, you're just delusional." said Sherlock, while he poured tea in a cup for Y/N, who was blushing furiously under all the attention.

"Wait 'till Greg hears about this!" replied John, still smiling in awe.

Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Who?"

"Lestrade." said Y/N from besides him.

"I thought his name was Gavin."

"It's Greg."

"When did this happen?" interrupted John, all sparkling eyes.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, picking up the newspaper once again. "Nothing happened, John."

"I'm not believing a word! This is too good-"

"Stick to blogging, John, gossiping doesn't suit you."

Offended, John gasped, turning to look at Y/N. She avoided his gaze, drinking her tea and looking at the walls around them. "Right... My bad, then." he said, sighing.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Sherlock Holmes started smiling at crime scenes. It was almost off putting, the way a genuine smile would break through at any moment. In front of a corpse, no less.

Lestrade noticed it. He also noticed the oh-so-not-subtle glances. Sherlock's eyes would slip over to Y/N and she would meet his gaze, almost shyly but smiling.

Then, the detective started asking her opinion on the cases more often and Lestrade knew. How could he not when it was all so obvious?

"You know, Sherlock, one day you're gonna steal my co-worker." he said as he approached him.

Sherlock's face remained impassible like stone. "That won't ever happen. She'll come willingly if you keep boring her. Send her on real cases, she's smart enough to solve them on her own."

Lestrade opened his mouth to reply but he was left in the dust after Sherlock spotted Y/N. "Yeah, okay..." he trailed off as he watched Y/N greet Sherlock with a blush and a shy smile.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"Let's have lunch." said Sherlock to Y/N, meeting her eyes and standing straight. He wore his blue navy coat and a white shirt this time.

"To talk about the case? I think I found a lead and-"

"No."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "No?"

He took a step closer to her. "No. Let's have lunch to talk about ourselves."

She felt her face flush. "Oh."

Sherlock's eyes held a look of amusement and adoration and he smiled. "I believe the correct word would be yes." He lightly took her hand, his thumb caressing her skin in slow circles. "Please, do me this honour and let me take you out on a date."

Y/N smiled up at him, before standing on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. "I'd love to."

Bonus:

"I kind of set them up." said Lestrade as he and John watched the interaction between Sherlock and Y/N from afar.

"How so?"

"I stole Y/N's umbrella and then set her off home, asking her to stop by 221B in order to ask Sherlock what progress he was making in solving that case."

"Oh, Greg! That was brilliant! She spent the night there."

"Did she?"

"Yeah."

"Interesting."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A/N: oh wow this somehow turned to be a long one. It was supposed to be around 2k words, more or less but I kinda got carried away.

I hope you enjoyed it! Every feedback is appreciated! If you'd like to be added to the tag list, just comment under this post or send me an ask!

Have a great day xx

Tag list: @bohemianrhapsody86 @andreead

[rodr1cks]

Hi! I don't know if your request are open, but I'd like to know if you could write a rodrick x reader where the reader is Rowley's sister and discovers her talking on the phone with a friend saying she's in love with Rodrick and tells Greg and he tells her that Rodrick has been in love with her for a long time and they try to put them together?

cw: none it’s pure fluff

word count: 1.8k

“I know! And he didn’t even apologize!” Greg ranted into the receiver.

“I’m sorry, Greg,” Rowley frowned, sympathetic nature as present as always. “Anyways, mom says dinner is ready, see you tonight?” Rowley’s tone lifted at the end of his sentence, excitement brewing as he thought about the sleepover he was meant to have with Greg later that evening.

You slid into the kitchen on your socks, just as Rowley was concluding his conversation with Greg.

Rowley sat anxiously through dinner, quickly consuming everything on his plate, including the vegetables. You observed him from across the table, cocking your head as your younger brother inhaled his peas like he hadn’t eaten in days.

He took his last bite before exclaiming, “I’m going to pack my stuff for Greg’s!”

Not without clearing his dishes first, of course.

You rolled your eyes at his charisma and headed into the living room. You slumped over on the couch, limbs splayed every which way as you called your friend, Marissa. You had been needing to gush to somebody about your newest crush, Rodrick Heffley.

You had only interacted with the messy haired boy in passing: family dinners, picking up Greg, dropping off Rowley, etc.

“I don’t know what it is, he’s just so- so- captivating. God, Mar, I swear I could watch him play drums for hours on end!”

Unbeknownst to you, Rowley had entered the room and was about to speak. You were too caught up in drooling over Rodrick to notice. “Hey, y/n-” He cut himself off quickly, curiosity getting the best of him.

“And did you see what he was wearing at Matt’s party? Those jeans? And that eyeliner? God I could just tear them-”

Rowley cleared his throat, unwilling to hear the rest. “Y/n can you take me to Greg’s, please?” He stood awkwardly with his lips pursed.

Your head whipped around faster than the speed of light. “Marissa, I gotta go.”

“Rowley, how much of that did you hear?”

He lied, something he wasn’t really good at, “Not much! I promise!”

“Rowley Jefferson you had better keep your mouth shut, or I swear I’ll-”

You stopped yourself, closing your eyes and drawing in a deep breath. “Just get in the car.” You breathed out in a scarily calm tone. Your red headed sibling nodded frantically out of fear and darted to the garage.

Usually, you would make him walk, but ever since your infatuation with Rodrick began, you were more eager to give him rides over there. The mere prospect of getting the slightest glance sending excitement throughout your entire being.

When you pulled up to the Heffley home, you gave him a final glare. “Say nothing.” He gave you the same shaky nod he gave you only moments ago. With that, he was bounding towards the front door. You made sure he got inside safely and drove off.

“Rowley? Everything okay?” Greg asked his friend, concerned with his behavior. Rowley couldn’t handle keeping secrets. His hands grew clammy and a slight sweat broke out on his forehead. Rowley had an uncomfortably fake smile plastered on his face as he tried to assure Greg that everything was just peachy.

All it took was one knowing look from Greg and Rowley broke.

“Alright, fine! I heard my sister talking to her friend about how hot Rodrick is and how she wants to-”

“Okay, okay! I get the picture!”

Greg took a moment to proceed, his brows furrowed as he brought a contemplative fist up to support his chin.

“Lemme get this straight. Your sister likes my brother?”

Rowley nodded slowly.

“Y/n likes Rodrick?”

Rowley nodded again, confirming Greg’s exclamations.

“But y/n is smart a-and hot!”

“Greg! Don’t say that!” Rowley groaned, rolling his head back in disgust. Greg threw both of his hands up in defense, “I’m just stating facts.”

“Wait, I have an idea.” A pit of dread grew in Rowley’s stomach, Greg’s ideas never turned out well.

“What if we set up y/n with Rodrick? Just hear me out, this could be good for him.”

Rowley mulled the idea over in his head, thinking that maybe dating you could make Rodrick more… agreeable? Maybe you could be a good influence on the intimidating teenager. A happier Rodrick would make sleepovers at Greg’s a lot more pleasant.

“I think that could work,” Rowley said apprehensively. “But how do we do it?”

Greg shrugged, “Simple, we just tell Rodrick there’s a really hot Girl interested in him.”

The boys proceeded to draw up a plan.

Phase one: The approach. Greg and Rowley nervously ascended the wooden steps that led to Rodrick’s room. Rodrick was laying on his back, spinning a drumstick between his nimble fingers.

He shot up immediately when he noticed the boys’ presence. “What are your dweebs doing up here?”

Phase two: Delivery. “Calm down Rodrick, we have some information you might wanna know,” Greg reasoned cooly, easing Rodrick’s anger from a roaring ten to a mild six.

Greg nodded over at Rowley, signaling him to start talking.

“W-well,” Rowley stuttered, “I uhm- heard my sister talking about you and she- she likes you and she was talking about your jeans?”

Rodrick blinked in confusion, processing this intel.

“Your sister likes me? Are you sure she meant me?”

“That’s what I said!” Greg exclaimed and Rodrick shot him a terrifying glare, silently telling Greg to can it.

Rodrick was honestly shocked. He always observed you from afar, deciding himself that a chick as cool as you would never go for him. This news was absolutely world shattering for the boy, he completely admired you.

Phase three: Action. “We have a plan.” Greg said, a conniving grin creeping onto his face. “Rowley calls y/n, tells her that he’s feeling sick and blames it on Mom’s pot roast or something. Then when she rushes over all worried, you greet her at the door. And then you work your Rodrick magic!” Greg smiled, abundant pride for his plan evident in his stature.

“It’s a go.” Rodrick declared, scrambling around his room to put on deodorant, a new t-shirt, and cologne before pointing at Rowley. “Make the call.”

“Hey, y/n,” Rowley groaned into the phone, sounding as sick as he possibly could. “I- I think I ate something bad and I really need you ro come get me.”

You sighed, telling him you’d be there in ten minutes and to have his things ready to go. You departed for the Heffley house for the second time that night.

When Rowley didn’t come out to your car, you trudged up to the red door to go retrieve the sickly boy.

You gave the door three lazy knocks, expecting Rowley’s face to be the one behind it when it swung open. “Hey kid, are you feeling okay?” You asked, not yet making eye contact with the figure leering in the doorframe.

Your eyes widened as you came to realize who it was.

“Funny seeing you here,” Rodrick drawled out, a smirk tugging at his lips. Your cheeks burned with the heat of one thousand suns, you were not expecting this tonight.

“Y-yeah,” you smiled awkwardly, staring at your feet. “Rowley called, he uhm, he’s not feeling well. So if you could just get him for me I can leave. Immediately.” You cursed yourself for your blubbering idiocy as you twiddled your fingers.

“Actually, Rowley is feeling much, much better.” Suspicion grew as you studied Rodrick’s devious expression. “What’s going on?” You asked, genuinely puzzled as nothing was making any sense.

“I don’t know, y/n. Why don’t you come in and tell me?” Rodrick was surprisingly smooth in this situation, despite his nerves being at an all time high.

“Rowley is just up here,” Rodrick said while guiding you up the stairs to his room. In the meantime, Greg and Rowley peered out from the hallway, watching you follow Rodrick upstairs and giggling to themselves.

The overhead lights in Rodrick’s room were turned on, the glow from his string lights illuminating the area instead. “Mood lighting,” as he had called it. Rodrick had already instructed the boys to stay far away once you had arrived.

You were still lost, Rowley nowhere in sight. “So? Where is he?” You asked expectantly.

“Here’s the thing y/n. You know Rowley can’t keep secrets, right? I mean you have to know that, he is your brother”

Shit.

“That little shit stain! I’ll get him, I swear to god!” You turned to bound down the stairs, ready to tear the entire house apart in hunting for him. Rodrick grabbed your wrist before your foot could even reach the first step.

“Y/n, relax, relax!” His grip on your flesh made your breath hitch and stomach churn. “It’s okay, I feel the same way.” Rodrick’s cocky facade dissipated into nothing as he revealed his feelings.

You got a glimpse of a more vulnerable side of Rodrick that you were sure he didn’t typically share. “But girls like you don’t usually like stupid guys like me,” Rodrick was staring at the ground now, grasp on your arm softening.

You were too unsure of your words so you opted to move your free hand to hold his bicep, closing a considerable amount of distance between the two of you in the process.

“Rodrick, I’ve never liked anybody as much as I like you. And I don’t mean that in a weird or creepy way it’s just that-”

Now it was time for Rodrick’s own addition to the plan. Phase four: The kiss.

Your rambling was cut short by a pair of warm lips pressing against your own. He kissed you with just enough force to cause you to stumble back a bit, causing you to brace yourself against his torso.

He carded a gentle hand through your hair and tugged back on your soft locks. You moaned at the vibrations tendrilling at your scalp and kissed him with even more ferocity.

Somehow, you ended up on his bed, straddling him. The blankets strewn across his mattress melded against your knees and the fronts of your calves as you stabilized yourself on his lap.

He placed apprehensive hands on your hip bones, unsure of what was okay and what wasn’t. You placed your hand on top of his larger one, assuring him that you were comfortable. You even allowed a small whimper to leave your throat as he tightened his hold on you.

You only pulled away to catch your breath, looking into his eyes for the first time that night. You smiled warmly at him as you cupped his cheek. Suddenly, Rodrick’s signature smirk returned to his face.

“Now tell me what you were saying about my jeans.”

[creativeashproductions]

Proceed With Caution // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: The reader doesn’t expect to become involved in a hostage situation with her fiance’s older sister, the older sister’s best friend and the best friend’s date from hell. With the addition of a SWAT member, how will the taking of dispatch change?

Warnings: Swearing, blood, threats, angst, guns, hostage/kidnapping

Words: 5.9k

A/N: Recently got into the tv show 9-1-1 and completely fell in love with Buck so here I am writing for him as well. This takes place during the season three episode ‘The Taking of Dispatch 9-1-1’. Reader and Buck are already in an established relationship.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

The apartment was quiet as the sound of your keys clattered in the bowl on the countertop. It was pretty early in the morning, so you had no doubts that Buck would be just waking up. On his days off, he would use the first day to catch up on sleep; based on prior times, he would be up in half an hour.

“Buck?” You called out from the kitchen. You heard a groan from the loft where Buck was in the process of waking up, “I forgot to drop off that book Maddie wants to borrow. When I get back, do you want to get breakfast?”

A grumble you somehow translated to approval was what you received in response. You jogged up the stairs to the loft to grab the book from your bookshelf. Buck’s bare leg stretched out from underneath the comforter on your side. The soft sighs Buck made in his sleepy state tugged at your heart; the sighs grew louder when you bent to kiss his head.

“See you in a bit.” You whispered to the sleepy soft male. He sleepily grinned in response before curling into your pillow.

The sound of your footsteps softened on the steps back to the main level of the apartment. Your keys snagged from the bowl before you gently closed the door behind you. The sun was gorgeous to be awake to see and had Buck not worked a long shift, you’d have adored watching it with him.

Your car pulled out of the parking spot in the Los Angeles Service Center’s direction that Maddie worked at. Your lips quirked as the radio spewed out the station that Christopher listened to in the car. You could even pick up the book in the backseat where he called his spot. The book could be found in Buck’s Jeep as well.

It had maybe three days since you’d seen the young Diaz, and damn did you miss the kid. Christopher has his enigmatic quality that demanded you love him for all that made him simply Christopher. The second you’d met him, you knew he would mean a lot to you.

You hummed in time with the song that was currently Christopher’s absolute favourite. Slowly you went from humming to singing along when the light turned green. A handful of songs came and went on the admittedly long drive due to traffic.

It was about forty minutes after leaving your apartment that you parked next to Maddie’s car in the parking lot. Lucy was sitting at the front office with a grin you matched. The woman buzzed you before she clocked out with her reprieve Jake.

“Hey, Sue!” You grinned at the older redhead. Sue had absolutely no problem seeing you, given that you were welcome in the building.

Sue’s first interaction was when you came to the centre to pick up Maddie when she came to work sick. Maddie had managed to keep it under wraps for an hour before Sue caught on. Ever since, Sue was fond of asking Maddie about her brother and you.

“Maddie’s not in just yet.” Sue spoke with a kind smile, “If you’ll excuse me, I have to meet with one of our sit alongs.”

You nodded towards her while beelining for the woman’s bathroom, hoping to catch Maddie after using it. You’d drank too much water on your run earlier this morning. Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate in the time you’d entered the bathroom, several things happened. Lucy ended her shift, Jake started his shift, and a group of strangers entered the building.

Your hand went to push open the door when through the crack, you saw two men you’d never seen before. Years of your job gave you enough feeling to know that something wasn’t right. That being said, you eased the door closed and attempted to find a hiding spot.

The garbage was too narrow and had no lid. The few seconds you had left, you glanced up. The ceiling hadn’t been renovated in many years. Rectangular sheets could be raised. Thankful of the rock climbing lessons you’d done with Maddie, you managed to crawl into the ceiling just as the two men entered.

“Nobody’s here.” The one-man with his head as pale and shiny as a cue ball. He gave off the most creepy vibe; the shorter Hispanic man wasn’t as violent looking, “Kinda hoping someone tries something. I’ve wanted to try out this.”

The man waved the large gun in his hand with a sick smile that twisted your stomach. That was the moment you’d realized something was very wrong. The second they left, you gently dropped back on the ground. Your first instinct was to send a message to Athena, but there was a fatal flaw. You’d expected to be in and out of the building quickly, so you’d left your phone in the car.

“Fuck.” You swore. One hand roughly running over your forehead as you contemplated figuring out a plan.

The building had many cameras throughout that you knew the blindspots for. The year after high school and during the summers, you’d worked in the building. Despite having worked here when you were younger, it was never during Sue’s shift. Over the years, you’d come to know the blind spots and a few cameras that were decoys. You even remembered Maddie and her friend Josh complaining about three cameras not fixed yet.

“Think.” You breathed, making a pattern of pacing, “They’ll need a lookout. They’ll take out the security guard first. The front doors are out. It’s a team, so they’ll also need eyes on the building. Terry is definitely a hostage.”

Of course, you’d end up in a volatile situation during the first half of your day before your shift started. The only comforting thing about the situation was the holstered gun on your hip and the badge on your belt. Maybe you should backtrack to why you had a gun and badge; you were an LAPD member, specifically SWAT.

“The changeroom.” You breathed, recalling it was down the hall with no camera. All you needed to do was pretend to be a dispatcher. The changeroom, now mostly a file room, had a few extra maroon and blue uniform shirts.

You timed it. The man holding Sue’s tablet was in the process of talking with his cohort, so you dashed to the room. You took no time in changing into a loose maroon shirt with your thick sweater overtop to hide the gun in the small of your back.

Your holster, badge and personal shirt tucked in the bottom of a box for safekeeping. As soon as you saw your entry, you sat with the group of hostages a hall over. A few looked surprised but let it go when you raised one finger to your lips.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Maddie hissed from the other side of a startled Josh. Both of them were surprised at seeing you here, “Oh my god. Buck is going to kill me.”

“I was dropping off your book before I get breakfast with Buck, but it appears my small bladder saved my life.” You snarked with your eyes scanning the room, “What’s going on?”

“That is my date from hell, Greg.” Josh inconspicuously pointed towards the man, clearly giving orders. The anger flared inside you, “You need to get out.”

“Josh, no offence, but I’m an officer with the LAPD. I work with SWAT. I’m your best bet of making it out alive.” You informed the dispatch duo, who went still as Cue Ball patrolled the hallway with a sadistic glint in his eyes.

“They took control of the building for a reason we don’t know about. We’re still working but under strict monitoring. They said it will be an hour, but we’ve seen their faces.”

“No witnesses.” You finished for Maddie with a deep sigh, “Unfortunately I left my phone in the car. Did they take yours-”

“They took Linda’s EpiPen. Of course, we don’t have phones.” Maddie sighed, leaning back to rest her head against the wall. Not even having a SWAT member by her side was comforting; your badge put a more significant target on you.

“We have to warn someone.” Josh mumbled to both Maddie and you, “You’re on shift Y/N?”

“Not for a few hours. I was supposed to drop off the book and get breakfast with Buck before my shift. This was supposed to be five minutes tops, so I left my phone in my car.”

“I already did.” Maddie spoke with a sad look on her face that overtook the fear, “I just hope he gets the message.”

Your hand reached out to squeeze the woman you’d had a hand in raising Buck more than their parents. Maddie had become family when you first started dating Buck. The in-law part of her familial relationship to you never crossed your minds; you were simply sisters to each other.

“Who?”

“Chim. I told him I loved him.” Maddie finished with a teary gaze. It made you sick seeing that look again after Doug.

You remembered seeing that haunted look when she stumbled out of the thicker woods covered in blood. You’d stayed by Athena’s side when Buck clutched her so tight and sobbed with her. It had been before you’d become serious with the man, but it was that frightening day that Buck fell for you. You’d just finished a taxing shift with your team when you heard about Maddie was missing, and Chim was in the hospital. You’d ignored the exhaustion to search high and low through your work contacts before narrowing the search area.

“Good thing Chimney obsesses over the little things.” You spoke, slouching down against the wall, “We’ll get throu-”

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Maddie warned you with her brows furrowed together, and you saw what she was doing. Despite your years of experience and the gun you had, she pushed her fear down behind the concern that a big sister shows her young siblings.

“I won’t.”

At 8am, Buck was just entering the apartment building from grabbing the mail addressed to both you and him when Chim had called.

“Yup, go for Buck.” Buck spoke, opening the door to the apartment he’d only temporarily left. His morning had been late after his long shift the night before. The most productive thing was dressing for his breakfast date with you and grabbing the mail.

“How come 9-1-1 doesn’t respond when I call?” Chimney questioned the younger, now confused male.

“Uh, is that some kind of riddle? Like who watches the watchmen?” Buck asked, closing the door behind him. His eyes scanned around for any indication you’d returned home, but the bowl was vacant of your keys.

“Neither of those things are riddles. Okay, I just tried calling 9-1-1, and I got the high call volume message. Did I miss an earthquake or something?”

“Nope, pretty chill morning.” Buck responded as he closed the fridge door with a bottle of water in hand. The entire conversation wasn’t concerning to him, given that Chimney was often like this.

“Where’s Y/N? She’s the police she’ll know-”

“She’s not home right now. Wait, why are you calling 9-1-1? Is everything okay?” Buck slowly asked with his brows coming together. The sigh of frustration from Chimney was answer enough.

“Your sister said that she loved me.”

“Yeah. Wasn’t that uh, the whole point in that big date you had last night?” Buck inquired on his way to the table. He had a feeling this was going to be a long conversation that would hopefully pass the time until you got home.

“You declare your love, and she declares hers? That’s how it went with Y/N and me.”

“Yeah, I know, okay, but she didn’t, all right? At least not last night. Look, she made this big deal saying that she couldn’t say those words, and then this morning, she blurts them out and hangs up on me.” Chimney speaks, pacing in his own apartment. The side by the side of Chimney and Buck’s separate apartments told different tales of their states.

“It’s still not quite sounding like an emergency.”

“’Cause I sound insane.” Chimney spoke, staring up at the ceiling with a battle in his mind. He wants Buck to talk him out of this, but he also wants Buck to agree with him, “She’s at the call centre. What could happen there? You know what, forget it, I’ll try Y/N again.”

“Again?” Buck questioned just as his co-worker ended the call. Buck tugged his phone away from his ear to stare at it confused.

You always answered the phone if you weren’t working at the moment, but given you still had hours, he found it unsettling. After seeing the news report with the ladder truck on top of him, calls weren’t ignored between you two. That feeling of concern grew when you didn’t answer his call either. Nor the second one.

“Nah, she’s probably talking with Maddie.” Buck spoke, but that second-guessing feeling didn’t dissipate. 

In the call centre, you’d been marched to one of the stations with a deep hope that you’d remember everything. It had been years by then since you’d worked as a dispatcher. It didn’t help with the gunmen patrolling the room.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” You calmly questioned the caller.

“Hi, my cat is up the tree by my house. Could you send someone?”

“Can I get your name?” You went through the motions of getting her name and address before you informed the woman, “Okay, the LAFD and LAPD no longer respond to calls of cats in trees. The cat will make its way down on its own. If the tree is in your backyard, I’d use the time to garden or read a book on this beautiful day.”

“Oh, thank you. I’m sorry for taking up your time.”

“It’s no problem. Having a wonderful day Susan.”

In no time at all, you’d been rotated into the board room away from Josh and Maddie. It gave you time to inspect everyone you hadn’t made contact with yet. No one appeared harmed other than in distress with the situation.

“Downtown. They don’t want anyone downtown.” Linda whispered as Maddie was guided onto the floor by the elbow. You’d only gathered her name from her near-silent introduction to you when the hired guns had been far from your area.

“Let’s go.” Greg snapped, roughly pushing you towards the conference room. Something deep in your gut already predicted that someone was going to be stupid.

It was your sharp eyesight catching the minuscule agitation in Greg’s interactions with the Cue Ball guy. The slight tightening of his grip on the gun, the tension in the room growing stifling. And everyone knows that when emotions run high stupid things happen.

“Why do they keep moving us around like this?” The man beside Maddie questioned. He was definitely the most shaken of the group. He was basically shaking like a chihuahua.

“To disorient us.” Maddie spoke, staring at the group monitoring the dispatchers currently in play. Her eyes refused to leave them.

“So, we can’t make a plan.” You finished for your sister-in-law. Objectively out of everyone, Maddie, Sue and you were the most collected individuals for various reasons.

Maddie had lived in a volatile house with a man that could be unpredictable if a situation called for it in his mind. Sue had been working in the centre for years to navigate the emergency while you walked into dangerous situations.

“Jamal.” The shaking man spoke, holding his hand out towards you, “Are you new?”

“No.” You spoke as you shook his hand, “I’m Y/N. Maddie’s sister-in-law. I’m filling in as a favour for Sue.”

The lie slipped off your lips a little too quickly. You decided to come to this hostage situation as if you were undercover. It meant having to ignore that Maddie was in the situation with you.  

“Worst day for a favour.” Jamal snorted with his eyes pinned on one of the armed men holding all your lives in their hands. You’d have spoken, but Jamal checked out mentally from the conversation waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The shoe dropped when the IT Specialist announced numbly, “Jake’s dead. They shot him.”

It didn’t matter how long you’d been working for the LAPD, any death, whether it was a civilian or a criminal, it was still was startling. Jake, the security guard that alternated shifts with Lucy, wasn’t someone you spoke with. He was on shift when you weren’t here or just missed the shift change.

“We need to get a message out.” Jamal spoke, glancing at the only people in the right state of mind, and those were Maddie, Josh and you. Terry had seen the violence these men had no issues with.

“I did.” Josh breathed, thinking of the arguably cute security guard he sometimes liked to stare at, “A woman called about onions in an omelette. I dispatched an officer.”

“To the restaurant?” Maddie inquired with her pinkie connected with yours for comfort. Both of you would prefer your SO’s hand instead.

“Not exactly.” Josh replied, staring at his best friend with a glimpse of hope in his brown eyes.

Hope may be the only way you could get out of this without hurting anyone in your admittedly surface level plan.

“Buck will think something is up.” You added 

Buck had begun pacing the kitchen of the apartment with Chim adamantly telling his friend his plan to go to the centre. Buck had joined Chimney in the concerned department when you had failed to return to the apartment, return calls and to make matters worse, so was Maddie. His texts had gone unanswered as well, not even having the read receipt on.

“She’s not picking up either. I tried Y/N and Josh, but neither replied. When I tried Maddie and Josh, it went straight to voicemail.”

“Now, I’m definitely going.” Chimney announced, shoving his wallet into his pocket just as someone began knocking on his door.

“What if something is wrong? I know Y/N is a member of SWAT but radio silence? No text to let me know she was called in early?” Buck thought aloud with his finger dragging along his thigh, “Maybe we should call the police.”

“I...think someone already did.” Chimney informed Buck as he stared at the sudden appearance of Sergeant Athena Grant at his door.

“What? What do you mean?” Buck hastily questioned, leaning against the kitchen island. He could just faintly hear Athena speaking on Chimney’s end of the phone, “Chimney? What’s going on?”

“Athena was sent to my apartment. Hang on, Buck, I’m just gonna tell Athena what’s going on.”

Buck stepped away from the island to settle on the stairs to the loft, impatiently waiting for Chimney to finish speaking. That fear of losing pieces of his life expanded deep in his gut, just like the times Maddie left in his childhood. That fear of being left behind.

“What’s she’s saying now?”

“She’s making her case.” Chim whispered as he continued to eavesdrop on Athena’s call with her higher-ups, “Now she’s folding like a cheap suit.”

“All right, let me talk to Athena.” Buck demanded antsy to figure out the situation that clearly had something wrong. That fear he’d thought of early flared catching the tail end of Athena’s conversation, “No! No, no. We can’t just send in SWAT. If there is someone inside the call centre doing something, they’ll know we’re onto them.”

Unfortunately, Buck was correct in this thought process, all thanks to living with a SWAT member. He knew these things after the years he’d been with you.

“Maddie? I think I can sneak up to Terry’s computer. Maybe get eyes on the place-”

“No!” Terry nearly shouted, stiffening when Cue Ball hesitated in the doorway at his sudden shouts. You all held your breath for his reaction, but thankfully he was called away by one of the men, “They have-”

“Terry, I need you to calm down. I’m familiar with these types of situations. I’m SWAT. I need to get on top of this. Don’t be a hero.”

Maddie’s head began to shake when your arm was roughly grabbed by Greg, “Your turn.”

You were separated from Josh and Maddie, but instead of being pushed into one of the dispatcher seats, you were pulled to the original hallway.

“I don’t like how friendly you are with them.” Greg spat, shoving you to rest against the wall, “Don’t move.” 

You catch the eyes of Maddie with an apologetic expression before you used the pacing routine to sneak away. You didn’t release your breath until you were attaching your holder to your hip in the change room. By now, your team would be aware that something was wrong, Hondo would be hell-bent on finding you.

Until you had help, you were on your own.

You used each blindspot of the cameras in the halls to the stairwell, and you used a broom to adjust the cameras. The cameras not kept you from view but not appearing suspicious. Once at the floor where Terry was practically always at you softly closed the door. 

You’d only started to sit down when you heard the ding of the elevator, “Shit.”

You slipped into the closest containing extra parts if anything broke. Through the crack, you saw Terry being held at gunpoint. The gunman that had been holding the tablet on the floor, Ellis as you’d heard.

“You’re telling me every cop in the city has just disappeared?” Ellis demanded as Terry, and he disappeared around one of the corners. The tapping of a screen indicating Ellis was searching for something with Terry’s involuntary help.

“I’m telling you, I don’t know!” Terry snapped back, creating even more tension in the room, but Ellis didn’t move to grab his gun.

Ellis appeared to the only one reluctant to discharge your weapon, unlike Cue Ball, who just happened to join the party.

“Figure it out!” Ellis spat, turning on his heel at the sound of approaching footsteps. You could see him roll his eyes at his team member walking into the room.

“What’s going on here?” Cue ball questioned the duo in different kinds of distress, and you swore Cue Ball enjoyed the intimidation from his teammate and the IT specialist.

“That police car’s not the only one that’s gone dark.” Ellis nervously spoke, stiffening for the volatile reaction that one could expect from Foster.

“You think they know we’re here?” 

“Foster, it could be a system glitch.” Ellis offered keeping one eye on Cue Ball while monitoring Terry’s work as well.

Cue Ball spoke a sentence that sent chills up your spine, “Time to cut our losses.”

As Foster and Ellis began going over their personal plans made out of Greg’s knowledge, you noticed Terry glance over. His eyes widened slightly before quickly looking away when you raised a finger across your lips.

“We can go down the back stairs. I have a car waiting around the corner, we split the art up between the five of us, and we go our separate ways.” Foster spoke, revealing his plan to double-cross Greg, which in all honesty made sense. Greg was ill-fitting to be in charge of their operation, unable to control his lackeys.

“I like that part of the deal.” Ellis breathed, skirting around the trigger happy criminal only to halt in his steps, “Wait, you’ve got a car parked down the street? You were always gonna double-cross Greg.”

“You weren’t?”

“If we’re gonna do this, you can’t just sell famous works of art on eBay.”

“You can’t sell them from prison either.”

At that moment, something almost shifted in the area, something that made you pull your gun from your holster. Your body telling you something was about to happen. It happened in a split second. Foster fled the room leaving only Ellis just outside. With Terry frantically shaking his head, you tiptoed to the unsuspecting criminal.

“LAPD!” You shouted, pointing your gun towards the shocked man, “Put the gun down and put your hands up.”

“Aren’t you a dispatcher?” Ellis questioned, blinking in surprise.

“Aren’t you supposed to be intelligent? Next time check the schedule I haven’t worked here in years.” You spat, keeping your gun pointed on him, “Do I say-”

The sound of two guns going off made Terry flinch and scream as he instinctively dropped to the ground. IT was supposed to be safe, but Terry had now heard three gunshots in under two hours. He really didn’t want to see the outcome of the shots.

A moan coaxed Terry to peek out through the privacy glass. Ellis was on the ground while you kept your gun on him. He didn’t see anything else when the power went out. He didn’t see you drop to your knees, but he heard you.

“Terry...get down. Lay on your stomach with your hands insight, and don’t move.” You informed the terrified IT just as the floor was swarmed.

“Put the gun down!” The sound of Tan’s voice was welcoming as you slowly placed the gun on the ground. “25-David I have Y/L/N. The suspect is down, need medical.”

You got back to your feet when Tan nodded his head, “Thank god. There’s a possible body in the IT room along with the It Specialist Terry.”

“You got your badge on you?” Tan questioned as he cuffed the moaning Ellis up, “Street can you escort her down?”

Street nodded from his position, watching Tan’s back before guiding you to the stairs with hawk eyes. Even off duty, you kept your head on a swivel.

“You caused quite the commotion.” Street spoke halfway down the stairs when you barely mumbled. He caught you as you went down like a sack of potatoes, “Y/N!”

“Adrenaline is crashing.” You moaned, looking at your shoulder where the maroon had grown darker, “I think he shot me.”

“26-David I’m in the stairway. Prepare a medic.” Street spoke into his radio before he strapped the gun away and swept you into his arms, “Think you can have my back?”

“When don’t I?” You wheezed, with the sweat starting to bead on your forehead. As you crashed from adrenaline, you barely noticed being placed on the ground at the main entrance.

A paramedic cutting your borrowed shirt to reveal the bullet hole in your shoulder courtesy of Ellis, the only member who’d thought wouldn’t shoot his gun. You could vaguely hear Maddie calling out your name as you were loaded onto a gurney.

“M-Maddie?” You spoke, tilting your head to see Chris holding Maddie back from, “Chris! That’s my sister in law.”

Chris only let Maddie go when Hondo gave the all-clear, and you were so thankful when Maddie’s hand encased yours.

“Don’t close your eyes.” Maddie pleaded sick with the amount of blood on your skin and soaking through the gauze, “Who’s gonna help me put up with my little brother?”

“Buck.” You breathed sluggishly, blinking as the artificial lights changed to natural with the gun shining through the glass front doors.

“You didn’t let me close mine in that ambulance, so I need you to do the same. Don’t close them. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” Maddie cried as an officer pulled her aside as you were stopped. You wouldn’t remember it, but Maddie had to watch as you coded right in front of her.

Maddie had to watch them perform CPR on you and fight for a pulse. She had to think of how’d she’d tell her little brother she’d killed his fiance. The counting of the paramedics sounded as if underwater, and as they did, the world went quiet. Her mind checked out as the trauma settled in.

Maddie stumbled out of the building into a zoo of officers, medics, and news reporters almost robotically. She barely felt Chimney hug her, but she wrapped her arms around him and sobbed.

“It’s all my fault.” Maddie gasped, collapsing against him, “If I had-”

“Maddie?”

Chimney felt Maddie stiffen at the sound of Buck’s voice amidst the multiple voices milling around. Maddie raised her gaze to meet Buck’s blue eyes dripping in relief and question.

“Buck.”

“Maddie, where’s Y/N? Her car…” Buck trailed off, catching the utter heartbreak in his big sister’s eyes. A look he’d come to know in his line of work as a firefighter. The utter devastation that came with watching someone you love die, “No. No.”

“I got a pulse!” Came from the nearest ambulance, and Buck skirted around his sister and Chimney, “Ready to transport!” 

Your eyes slowly blinked at the white ceiling of the ambulance with pain in your midsection courtesy of chest compressions. Breathing came painful, and the bullet wound throbbed, but it all faded when you saw blue eyes above you.

“Buck.” You sobbed, more like groaned, as he was urged to sit on the bench holding your hand, “Maddie?”

“She’s okay. Chim’s got her. Can you keep your eyes on me? I need to see those big beautiful e/c eyes.” Buck soothed, bringing your hand to his lips, “Did I ever tell you my favourite colour?”

Despite Buck’s best attempts, you continued fading in and out of consciousness but continued to be stable. He spoke about the funny video Eddie had shown him of Christopher at the end of their shift last night. He talked about everything and anything under the sun during the short ride to the hospital.

The last thing you saw was Buck being held back as the paramedics pushed the gurney into the ER. Everything turned black.

The beeping was the first thing you heard before your eyes fluttered open to a stark white room and that unmistakable hospital scent. You noticed the second thing as Buck holding your hand in both of his with his forehead pressed against them.

“Buck?” You moaned to the one person you had wished to see. The man whose eyes were bloodshot from crying, “What’s wrong?”

“Your heart stopped beating twice. I thought I was gonna lose you.” Buck cried with his lips pressed against your hand, “I was so worried.”

“Hey. I’m fine. I’m here.” You cooed, tugging one hand away to run through his messy hair with a soft smile. His blue eyes brighten at the familiar feeling of your digits in his hair, “I’m not going anywhere. This isn’t here for decoration.”

His eyes found the ring he’d gently placed back on your finger from when the nurses had removed it. It only left your finger when you were on duty, in which it was slung on a necklace hidden under your uniform.

“Better not be.”

“Does the hospital have a chapel?” You questioned out of the blue leading to Buck snorting as you giggled, “I’m serious. When I was bleeding in that building, all I could think about was you. If Maddie is anything like you, she’s waiting in the waiting room with Chimney.”

“You aren’t wrong. All the chairs are taken. Our family was waiting for you to wake up.” Buck breathed, leaning closer to press a sweet kiss to your lips, “Are you sure?”

“About marrying you?” You softly questioned the man who couldn’t help but believe this was a dream. How he’d somehow got the girl of his dreams to agree to marry his ass, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. All I want to share is your last name for the rest of my life. You are it for me, Evan Buckley. All the flaws you see are beautiful to me.”

“Only you would want to get married after being shot mere hours ago.” Buck chuckled with a sigh pulled from his pink lips, “I’ll get the doctor for you and find out if we can be married here.”

While you were checked out, Buck left the room to go back to the waiting room where the 118 and your co-workers waited. Everyone perked up at his appearance, Christopher asleep on Eddie’s lap.

“Is she okay?” Bobby questioned as the tension in the room grew more and more. It shattered into relief when Buck grinned.

“She’s sore as expected. She’s gonna catch some sleep, but she’d like to see Maddie.” Buck replied, pinning his gaze on his big sister with her curled into Chimney’s body. Her cheeks flooded with tears of absolute relief, “C’mon.”

The waiting room started emptying with Buck’s promise to keep everyone updated, but before Bobby could step away, Buck asked for him.

“Do you need a few days off?” Bobby questioned just as Buck came closer to the seasoned firefighter.

“No. But could you spare an hour?” The expression on Buck’s face was enough for Bobby not to ask any further questions. He simply followed Buck back towards your hospital room, where Maddie and Chim waited.

“What’s going on?” Bobby inquired, with the addition of the hospital assigned Priest holding the standard bible. Chimney could only shrug in response to whatever was going on.

“I know there have been times we haven’t seen eye to eye, but Bobby, you’re like a father to me. You gave me chance after chance when anyone else would have given up. You guided me on how to be a man. Y/N and I would like it if you’d be here for this.”

“Wait, are you getting married? What about the wedding?” Maddie spluttered, flicking her gaze between her brother and you. Her question surprised her boyfriend and Bobby.

“We’ll still have it. But I want to marry her without the pressure of our parents. Just a private ceremony with some of the people that mean the most to us.” Buck answered for the two of you, “Would you stay?”

“Of course.” Maddie softly spoke with a slideshow of memories playing in her mind of watching Buck grow up.

Watching Evan go through all kinds of injuries, all in the name of attention but never getting it the way he deserved it. She remembered giving him advice for asking out Donna and holding him when he was rejected. The little toddler with the impish grin somehow turned into an idiot in the hospital.

Maddie saw the man her little brother had turned into with the help of the 118 and you.

Buck’s fingers made quick work of buttoning his short-sleeve uniform with the sudden appearance of his friend.

“That’s new.” Eddie spoke from his opened locker holding his uniform and a picture of his family on the door. It was a picture of Christopher, Buck, you and Eddie from the zoo a couple months back.

Buck looked over at his best friend, “Hm?”

“The ring.” Eddie snorted dramatically, looking at the ring that had been living on his finger since he married you five days ago, “Did my invite get lost in the mail?”

“Nah, we just got married in the hospital. We’re still planning the wedding to appease both sides of our family. And I promised Christopher he could be in the wedding. With Y/N on medical leave, the planning will be faster. She’s going stir crazy after five days.” Buck finished tucking in the shirt into his work-issued pants. Lastly, he slid his ring onto the metal chain he had bought recently.

Like you did, he would wear it around his neck when working for safety reasons.

“I’m happy for you, man.” Eddie told his friend just as the bell rang, “You’ll have to tell me how you’re liking the married life.”

“But first, we have a job to do.” Buck supplied all the while jogging to suit up in his turnout gear with Hen and Chimney.

[honestlyfrance]

SAMBUCKY BOOKMARKS

it’s fic yeah friday over at @fuckyeahsambucky​​​ so i wanna do a lil something something for the fandom :) check out my #fic rec tag for more! 

enjoy the more than 50 fics listed here :) be careful of the tags!

I Am Trying to Break Your Heart by Lunar_Pull

Today is the day that Steve received an invitation to the love of his life’s wedding.

Philopatry by Areiton

"I want to be safe," he says. "But I'm not." "Then why come here? Why put me at risk?" Something flickers in his eyes, little boy lost and utterly cold, and it makes Sam want to give the dude a hug and also pull his sidearm. "I have no reason to hurt you," Winter says. "I don't want to hurt you," Bucky adds, earnestly.

farmhouse by Tazmaster

"You know, I think I'd want a farmhouse."

"A what?" Sam turns to look at him, slightly annoyed. This was the first thing Bucky has said in the past hour and a half they've been cramped in this god forsaken car. He had a knack for impulsively voicing his dumb thoughts at the worst times, but whenever you wanted to know what was actually going on in that head of his, he'd never say.

They were staking out the front gate of a large mansion, very much not a farmhouse. It was mind numbingly boring, being stuck in a beetle with absolutely nothing else to do than stare at the gaudy gates of some rich asshole.

"A farmhouse," Bucky repeats nonchalantly, "If we ever get out of this business, or you know, live long enough to retire maybe--- I want a farmhouse. With a lot of animals."

---

Bucky keeps talking about a farmhouse and it drives Sam crazy, that is until he finally asks why.

Employee Discount by bopeep for queenmab_scherzo

Sam Wilson doesn't love working in a store that makes him wear vanity-sized polos and breathe in clouds of men's cologne like the worst kind of GQ aromatherapy, but the view from his cash register across the mall to the Hot Topic and the sullen Dark Prince of Wallet Chains he loves to hate may just beat the minimum wage blues.

In warm water, swimming down by targaryen_melodrama

“Why are you hiding?””Tired.”Bucky raises an eyebrow. “So you decided to swim.”“So I decided to be alone.”Bucky’s quiet for a moment. “I can go, if you want.”It’s the last thing Sam wants.

I figured out what the slashes mean by Teaismycoffee

Sam, Steve and Bucky are all living together in a safe house. Bucky and Sam discover fan fiction written about them. Steve doesn't approve. Sam and Bucky are really into secretly reading fan fiction together, or maybe it isn't the fan fiction part they are really into.

Chicken Soup for the Soul by bioloyg

“S’not my bed time,” Sam says as he buries his face in Bucky’s upper arm. Bucky laughs. “Tough. You’re sick.” Sam lets out a loan groan and says, “But my bed is cold. I was so warm, why’d you move me?” “Because your neck would’ve hated you if I didn’t.” He tries not to be so amused by how fussy Sam is when he’s both sick and half-asleep. It’s cute. ~ A fic wherein Bucky takes care of a sick Sam.

two nights in L.A. by CapnWinghead

Bucky kindly volunteered Sam to be a groomsman for Scott’s upcoming wedding. Of course, that meant Sam and Bucky had to go to the bachelor party.

at the end of the war (what's mine is yours) by notcaycepollard

They don't talk about it: that's how it works.

I'd Like That by honestlydarkprincess

Sam has been up for over 24 hours and has been dreaming about his Coffee Caramel Fudge non-dairy ice cream since about the 18-hour mark. When he gets to the store, there's only one carton of it left and, unfortunately for the guy innocently holding said carton, Sam's not leaving without it.

Or, the one where Sam is sleep deprived, yells at a cute guy, and gets both ice cream and a phone number out of it.

Ready, Set, Date! by bioloyg

Bucky wants to sleep, Natasha wants to find him a date for Steve's wedding (so he'll leave her alone), and Sam is the best thing about this whole speed dating disaster. But, Sam's not in the speed date rotations - he's at a different table weathering through dates just like Bucky is. ~ "Three dates in, Bucky decides he has made one of the worst decisions in all of his life by coming here. His first date had been an attractive enough man by the name of Greg. He introduces himself as “The Big G,” to which Sam laughs at in the middle of introducing himself to his own date. Greg likes to talk about cars a lot, which is fine. Bucky also likes cars. The only problem is that Greg’s love for cars borders on… erotic."

We'll rise up free and easy by Sarsaparilla, woofgender

Steve and Natasha are away on a mission when Sam receives intel about the Winter Soldier’s location. When he follows the lead, Sam finds something unexpected—but despite his initial impression, it’s certainly not all bad. (Post-CATWS, not AOU- or CACW-compliant.)

__________ "'Jesus Christ,' Sam said, 'Are you planning on fighting an entire army?'

Barnes looked up from examining the sights of a sniper rifle. '...no,' he said, a little guiltily, and adjusted one of the--five? Six? guns he’d already strapped to himself."

love is in the air (i smell coffee) by Flora_K, hermionesmydawg

Sam Wilson - graduate student, part-time barista, part-time salesman, and full-time father - doesn't have time to sleep, much less date. At least, that's what he tells himself.

Up at Night by bioloyg for lunaaltare

With Halloween nearing, Sam is feeling more in the mood for a scary movie than usual. He'd never watch one on his own though, so he invites his roommate to pick one out and join in on movie night. or Prompt fill for Samtember ~ "It’s quiet for a while after that. Like always, the two of them start on opposite sides of the queen sized bed with at least a foot of space between them. And, like always, they drift closer to one another as time passes, though whether it’s habitual or instinctual Sam would never dare delve into."

flowers in darkness, the moon above the sea by 27dis

Sam enjoyed his job, really.

But, not when a certain person came in.

A quick detour and a sudden arrival by iwillnotbecaged for heuradys

He found Wilson shivering in the snow, left for dead. Sloppy.

You couldn’t trust the elements to do your job for you. They were rarely so obliging.

A mission gone awry, unexpected help, and close quarters makes for an interesting couple of days.

Don't lock the door on me by TuskFM

Sam’s desperately trying to sleep when he gets a visit from the Winter Soldier at three a.m., bleeding and asking for help. Sam’s not the kind of guy who let someone bleed out on his front door, even if the said someone threw him off an helicarrier and stole his wheel.

and i run, further than before by hermionesmydawg

"What do they call you?" Bucky carefully pulls out an equal amount of caramel and cheese kernels of popcorn and pops them into his mouth. "Birdman?"

"No."

"Captain Canary?"

"Hell no."

"The Winged Avenger?"

"Falcon, dammit, and I am not an Avenger," Sam snaps, and now he's kinda pissed because yes, it's a bird name. He didn't sign up for this kind of ridicule from an amnesiac assassin.

***

Basically, the 5 times Sam actually found Bucky and the 1 time he tried to hide from him. Don't tell Steve.

Exquisite Flavor by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

W&M's Grand Corner's growing to be one of the popular restaurants in New York, where Sam Wilson works as a chef for his sister. A wedding's in a few weeks and he has no idea on what to do about it. Notorious for his picky taste and blunt reviews, Bucky 'Winter Wolf' Barnes pays a visit. Little did he know, food could really win one's heart and lands on his stomach.

He's a Beta, You Hear That? by 27dis

Reasons why Sam didn’t realize Bucky was courting him this entire time: 1. He is a beta 2. He is oblivious 3. He thought Bucky is way out of his league 4. He is a beta for fuck’s sake

See? It’s hardly his fault for not noticing it. Why was Bucky flirting with him anyw—

Oh. Oh.

Or; Bucky swore flirting with someone was never this hard before.

stay where we belong by glittercake

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing when he turns around and shouts, "Yo! You know what—" and Barnes turns on his heel in a flash, "It's getting late, man. Looks like rain."

Sam motions to the grey sky above, and Barnes follows his eyes beyond the hanging Willow branches. "Yeah? What are you saying?"

He's got that terribly smug look on his face, the one Sam can't stand but kind of misses when it's not irritating him. But mostly, he can't stand it, "Nothing! Forget about it!"

Arms Spread Out Wide, Turn Falling Into Flight by irisesandlilies

It was easy, nothing has ever been easy for Bucky. Except this, and that terrifies him.

Years in the making by glittercake

Bucky and Sam meet as two young soldiers, but the time is never quite right to make it anything more. Until it eventually is.

or

Sam refuses to let himself fall in love while he's deployed. Bucky pines endlessly for years about the prettiest bird he’s ever seen. Sam’s no better.

If At First You Don't Succeed by SonnyD

Bucky finally gains the courage to tell Sam about his feelings. He comes up with a list of methods to woo him that were bound to succeed. He didn't account for each and every one of them failing in unexpected ways. The five times that Bucky attempts to woo Sam and the one time that Sam returns the favour.

if i could take us back, if i could just do that... by safelikespringtime

Bucky laughed, cheeks flushing red, “I’m glad you didn't. Don't know what I’d do without my wingman.” Sam groaned, poking Bucky’s side, “That was awful.” Bucky laughed. “You couldn’t survive without me. We both know it.”

How right he was.

***

Sam dies. Bucky mourns.

Strawberries and Cigarettes always taste like you by winterscaptsam

There’s a sweet agonizing simplicity in leaving behind your safe haven, like the thrill of adrenaline, reaching the top of Everest, allowed to admire its beautiful icy view but with the everlasting fear of not making it back down. Maybe that's why it was a natural instinct for Bucky to reach out for the closest thing that felt like home, slowly then all at once falling for the sweet warmth of mahogany eyes, what soon became his safe haven.

Baked With Love by Siancore

Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.

It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.

Beneath this Crown by winterscaptsam

Sam traces his fingers from James’ hairline, down to his jaw, resting the pad of his thumb on James lips. He will let himself relish in this feeling. Not even the sculptors, painters or poets could carve their words and materials to accurately describe this.

“Do you think the history books will remember us?” Sam had once asked. And James’ words were made of the purest of golds, “my love, we will be legends for the children yet to come.”

Or

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes' love story, one a prince and the other a knight.

make my body come alive (i've got a right to hurt inside) by notcaycepollard

The body is weak. The body is hungry and soft and human. He looks at himself in the mirror, the bones of his shoulders, his cheeks hollowed out from hunger, and he thinks, gentle, you didn’t deserve this.

safe like spring time by quidhitch

“I already told you it looks good. What more is there?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re gonna live here. I just wish I knew a little bit more about how that’s sitting with you.”

Sam knows Bucky feels fine. What Sam’s probably actually after is how he feels about the fact neither of them have anywhere else to go, not with Natasha dead and Steve wrinkly. Therapists. Even the good ones, always so circular.

“I like the terrace,” Bucky offers, mostly to appease him.

Airy Laundry by AmarieMelody

Sam watches what happens when Bucky buys a clothesline.

lucky by CapnWinghead

In retrospect, it took Bucky an embarrassingly long time to realize that everyone and Scott's mom thought he and Sam were dating.

not an end, but (the start of all things) by notcaycepollard

They keep driving, for lack of anything better to do. A mission, Sam had said, and maybe that's true; maybe wherever they're headed is the way out, the way up.

So You Run On Gasoline by 343EnderSpark, ABitNotGoodieBag, OriginalCeenote

Bucky may have bitten off more than he could chew with this job, he thinks, as he ambles along the sidewalk to the cafe after leaving campus. He is running off the fumes of exhaustion and hasn’t had more than 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep in the past week. Between his students and his thesis, he knows that it’s foolish to try so hard to hang on to his barista gig, but DC isn’t a cheap place to live and Bucky can’t live with other people.

Bucky is just trying his best, despite being a human disaster.

we could jump the state lines (we only get the one life) by notcaycepollard

It starts in Paris.

“You can’t steal things just because you like them,” Sam tells Bucky, feeling innately that this is a losing battle, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, considers Sam very thoughtfully.

“Really,” he says. “I’m stealing you, aren’t I?”

we were a fire with no smoke by notcaycepollard

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. Take the boys out of New York but they’re still Brooklyn Catholics, that’s clear enough. Bucky catches the gesture, smirks hard enough Sam can see his eye teeth. It should be dangerous but he’s beautiful, pale and charming and recklessly easy.

“You wanna come in?” Sam asks, ignoring the noise Steve makes, and Bucky’s smile gets wider.

“Yeah,” he says. Steps up close to Sam. “I do.”

Peace Begins with a Smile by Siancore

Bucky just likes the way Sam smiles.

They're Good Drones, Brent by chase_acow

When Redwing becomes infected with an alien A.I., Sam has to balance the needs of the team with his own curiosity about his new partner. Redwing isn’t the only one acting strange, he also needs to get to the bottom of Bucky’s weirdness. It takes a training exercise gone wrong that Redwing and Sam might not survive for their secrets to be exposed.

Wet Asphalt (This Is What Love Is) by ObviouslyOtter

Soft words in the dark tell us all we need to know about love. Better when they come from the person you need to hear it from most. It's crueler when you don't realize it till afterward.

Or

Sam and Bucky go out shopping for candles.

i'm gone by bi_marvel

After infiltrating a Hydra base, Sam and Bucky are sent to a safe house, and there's only one bed. Oh, golly, I wonder what will happen!

Covert Coffee & Flirtation Special by glittercake

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

The Starting Line by birdlight

A Series

Lone and Level Sands by quantum_consciousness

The almost-smile disappears off Sam’s face and he takes a step deeper into the water, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt as he wades further. One look over his shoulder and he chucks the shirt to shore, and Sam dives into the water. The ache in Bucky’s chest deepens as Sam swims. He supposes, Sam has lost a lot more, he supposes, sometimes Sam feels as lonely as he used to.

in which love doesn’t ruin us by joesnick

“Idiot,” Bucky said, so natural and deliberate that she couldn’t hear well but it was there. Relief and happiness under a small light. “Don’t do that to me again.”

“Hey, I’m here,” Sam said, before getting closer and pressing his forehead against Bucky’s. “I’m here.” They ran out of words. They didn’t need them, not at that moment. Their steadying breaths and their tenderness, saved only for each other and fed by each other, was all they needed.

Ride of Shared Melodies by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

Two strangers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson meet in an unexpected encounter in the airplane. Over the course of the ride, they discover their mutual love for music and connect.

Let's Fly Away by Unclesteeb

"If I could fly, I could go anywhere. I could do anything.”

Sam’s mom gives his shoulder a gentle pat. “You can in your own way.”

“How?”

“Sammy, all you have to do to be as free as a bird is to just do the right thing.”

Sam furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”

“Well,” Sam's mom starts. “The right thing is doing nice things for people. It's treating everyone how you would want to be treated. It's going out of your way to help people and love them, even if they're not nice to you at first or at all. People deserve love, and I know you have plenty to give.” She leans down to give his cheek a kiss. “All you have to do to find your wings and fly free is to just do what you feel is right. You have a beautiful heart, Sam. I know you'll use it the right way. Then you'll fly.”

Been one of those days (can I lean on you?) by hazel_eyed_bi

Sam and Bucky wrap up an exhausting, weeks-long mission, only to go back to their mutual pining while forced to share a bed at a crappy motel. Also, Nat knows what's up.

Find your love and fight for it by winterscaptsam

Sam learns to love again, quiet and composed. Love letters stay in between walls and stolen kisses don’t leave his apartment. It's not that it's a secret, loving Bucky the way he does, lord knows he’d scream it from the rooftops, travel all the way to space to let any living life form know it as well. But that’s the problem, he just doesn’t know how and it aches him to his core to keep Bucky like a secret, like this love is something to be ashamed of.

Or

Sam decides it's about time to come out.

Kings of Everything by glittercake

Twenty-five years after the events at a popular New York Bistro, Timothy DumDum Dugan tells the true story of infamous mobster Jimmy Buchanan and the man he gave it all up for.

arson we commit by winterscaptsam

Bucky seeks adventure, reaches out for an adrenaline rush whenever he can get it and he reckons this fellow will be the one to give it to him. All sweet smiled and dolled up figure showing off his attributes. Like he’s daring anyone to take the rush.

So, Bucky goes and gets what he wants.

“What’s your damage, doll?”

Or

Bucky is the hitman and Sam is the target.

The Boys of Summer by Siancore for avintagekiss24

Sam Wilson returns home to the small town he grew up in to complete his med school residency. He hasn’t been back for an extended amount of time since he left for college. While he only consistently kept in touch with childhood friend, Steve Rogers, he was keen to see the people he had grown up with. With the exception of Bucky Barnes. They had a falling out the summer before Sam left for college. What happened between them? Can they move past it now that they’re adults?

Sam's Plan by OhHelloFandoms123

“I have a plan,” Sam said smugly, hands on his hips. “I have a three-step plan for you to marry me.” At first, he thought he was joking. Then, he saw Sam’s genuine smile.

Bucky groaned, “there is no way in HELL that I’m marrying YOU, Wilson.”

Wreck In the West by OhHelloFandoms123 for honestlyfrance

There’s just something about leaning on his chest as the sun goes down and the smell of tea whilst into the air feels so amazing. And he was a wreck because of it, it tore him apart and put himself back together because it was so blissful, he almost couldn’t breathe at first.

OR

Gay cowboy proposal.

Belonging Season by OhHelloFandoms123

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes have lived their most happy, married life for 70 years. Death won’t stop them today for living an eternity.

neverending; by glittercake

Sam passes away after a long and happy life with Bucky, but Bucky never ages and life keeps introducing him to Sam's reincarnates for the next 156 years.

Lighthouse by glittercake

This guy’s trouble. Bucky knows that in his bones. It’s not bad trouble, is the problem, it’s good. Sam is so goddamn inherently good and if Bucky even touches that with a ten foot pole—fuck if he even looks at it—it’ll turn to shit.

He can’t afford another move to yet another city because his colleagues started recognizing Brock’s fist prints on his face.

But Sam is a ridiculously bright glowing light, a beacon, and Bucky goes toward it like that idiotic moth to the flame.

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